


Flowers Grow Out Of My Grave

by Hideous_Sun_Demon



Category: Designated Survivor (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Disordered Eating, F/M, Gen, Ghost!AU, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, Lyor has issues, PTSD, Seth dies in the finale, Slow Burn, Trauma Recovery, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-16 21:09:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 121,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14818916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hideous_Sun_Demon/pseuds/Hideous_Sun_Demon
Summary: When the tsunami claims more than the White House staff ever could have feared, lives are shattered, people are changed, and nothing ever seems like it will be the same.And then: a chance to rebuild.





	1. The End

**Author's Note:**

> I initially planned this out in my head when all spoilers seemed to be pointing in the direction of Seth dying in the finale, and I needed a way to cope... This isn’t really needed anymore, but I really like the story so I’m gonna write it anyway!
> 
> Warning for graphic descriptions of bodily injury in the first chapter. (Sorry Seth)

“Hey, have you seen this guy?”

Lyor nearly tripped over a stray wooden beam stretched across the muddy ground in his haste to intercept a man he spotted picking his way through the debris a few feet away. He waved his phone in the man’s face- a face that was quickly darkening. He clearly wanted to keep moving out of the wave-wrecked wasteland bordering the beach, but Lyor planted himself firmly in front of him. He wasn’t letting a single person pass him without interrogating them first.

It had been six hours. Six long, arduous hours since the tsunami had hit. Lyor had long since run out of hope- not that he’d had much to lose in the first place- but he hadn’t yet run out of resolve. As long as he could keep standing, he was going to keep looking for Seth.

“This guy with the beard,” Lyor said again, louder this time, jabbing his finger at the photo of Seth on his screen for emphasis. “Have you seen him?”

The man squinted at the image, distorted by the cracks across the screen, and he shrugged with a disinterested frown, making forward to push past and continue walking. Lyor stood his ground, resisting the urge to growl- he wasn’t in the mood for ambiguity.

“You don’t seem very sure,” Lyor snapped, voice low and dangerous. “Take a closer look. Have you seen him- yes or no?”

Lyor practically heard the man’s patience snap. “I don’t know,” he finally said, the English thick and unsure on his tongue. “Seen many people today. I have to go.” He glared pointedly at Lyor’s feet that were still blocking his path. The man shifted his arms protectively, and it was only then that Lyor registered that he was holding something in them- no, not something, someone. A little girl, maybe five or six. She was sagging, looking as boneless as a rag doll, and the man- her father?- shot her a worried glance, bouncing her gently in his arms. It was no wonder Lyor hadn’t noticed her- she wasn’t making a sound.

Lyor took a step back. “Is she alright?-“

“I have to go,” he repeated. The little girl shuddered, wrapping her arms around the man’s neck, and finally Lyor relented. He stepped aside, wearily watching as the man and the girl passed him and trudged off into the distance, heading in the direction of the part of the city that wasn’t completely destroyed. The little girl rested her chin on the man’s shoulder, and her wide, blank eyes watched Lyor with only the dullest of recognition that there was another person there.

He turned away. There was more searching to do.

He defeatedly slipped his phone back into his trouser pocket, ready for the next person he ran into. All around him, he could hear the sound of search teams, the murmur of their voices rising and falling like the tide against the shore. Lyor had stuck close by them for the first few hours, but eventually he drifted a short distance away, preferring to search in the areas that hadn’t been touched yet. He wanted to cover as much ground as he could, as quickly as possible. If any survivors were found, he’d hear the shout. He hadn’t heard anything yet.

Lyor cast a helpless gaze around at the wreckage surrounding him. He was cornered on all sides by the collapsed remains of what used to be houses, stores, coffee shops, now nothing more than rubble and dust. There were so many places that could be hiding a body, that needed to be searched. So many places, and not enough time. Dusky half-light was coating his surroundings, and the rapidly setting sun was glowing red and violent as it brushed the horizon, glaring at Lyor as a stark reminder of the ticking clock.

He should be heading back to the hotel. He wouldn’t have any luck in the dark, and he wouldn’t be any help to Seth if he ended up falling down a pothole and breaking his leg. The law enforcement search teams would continue the search without him. If they found survivors- or bodies- Lyor would find out about it.

He could continue searching first thing tomorrow, Lyor decided, pivoting on his heel to face the direction that he knew the hotel lay in. But even with his mind made up, Lyor found it an effort to get his legs moving. It felt an awful lot like giving up, and Lyor was not, and never would be, a quitter.

But the sun was setting even quicker now, and as it went down Lyor could feel his bones aching in protest. So, begrudgingly, he set off, carefully navigating his way through the minefield of tree branches, and fence posts, and ripped off car doors. As he pulled away from the beach, the sigh of the ocean lapping at the shore faded away, and Lyor felt himself relax marginally. The sound had been putting him on edge for hours now- it was too calm, too foreboding.

The trickles of people Lyor passed as he trudged through the decimated streets soon turned into a great swell as he neared the hotel. It was the largest building in the area, and its sturdiness had kept it largely intact, so it had become the focal gathering point for all the straggling survivors. There were more people there than there were when Lyor had left earlier that day, and as Lyor scanned their haunted, harrowed faces, he understood why. These were people with nowhere to go, their homes destroyed- the hotel must have opened its doors to them.

It was more than that though, Lyor noted as he spotted the troops of search groups- police and firefighters, but also regular civilians from the look of it- bringing in people supported by the arms or carried on makeshift stretchers. The hotel had also become the place to bring the injured. From the reports Lyor had heard, the nearest hospital was already packed to the brim, and with the level of infrastructure damage in this part of the island, getting there was close to impossible anyway. So, a triage station had been set up on the bottom floor of the hotel. There were more people being looked over by doctors than ever- Lyor must have been returning right in the middle of a fresh wave.

Lyor edged his way through the makeshift hospital, scanning the faces of the new arrivals with only the quickest of glances before stubbornly averting his eyes. Lyor wasn’t a fan of blood, and right then the area was positively swimming with it. The coppery stench of it clogged up Lyor’s nostrils, forcing him to clamp down on the urge to dry heave. Not that the drowning victims were any easier to look at. Gaping mouths and sunken, bloodshot eyes- they looked like fish, washed up and shrivelled on the beach. But Lyor forced himself through the process. It was always possible that Seth had been found by someone else and brought in while Lyor was out searching.

Lyor went up and down the lines of groaning patients, but a cursory look didn’t show any sign of Seth. With an air of resignation, he checked the section cornered off for the deceased bodies that hadn’t been moved yet- Seth wasn’t there either. Lyor could breathe a little easier after checking the corpses. No news was still good news.

Of course, Lyor wasn’t holding out for good news. He’d seen too many dead bodies that day to be able to hold onto any shred of optimism.

No, this not knowing was more of a benefit for the President and Emily. Every time he reported in to them, there was always a flicker of relief on their faces when Lyor said he hadn’t found anything yet. Not the joy that he could imagine they’d feel if he’d told them that Seth was okay, but it was better than Lyor confirming the worst. Lyor let them enjoy their flimsy hope, and kept his own mounting suspicions to himself.

Lyor, grateful to be finished with his regular hospital sweep, stepped out of the path of a bustling doctor rushing to meet some people at the entrance. He began contemplating his options- he could call the President again, but maybe he could snag a change of clothes first- but before he could make a decision, the commotion at the entrance drew his gaze, and he tracked the doctor to where she was meeting with a few people carrying a stretcher between them. Dangling from the stretcher- that looked suspiciously like a wooden door- was a limp, brown hand.

Heart in his mouth, Lyor followed the line of the man’s arm to his body- clad in a filthy but still visibly pink dress shirt- and then to his face. It was caked in mud and crusted blood, but even from here, Lyor knew that beard, those eyes.

“Seth!” he hollered, turning heads as he raced across the room, leaping over outstretched limbs as he tried to reach the entrance as quickly as possible. All his previous exhaustion was wiped away as electric energy lanced through his veins. Lyor had resigned himself to the worst hours ago, from the first moment the tsunami had struck, but there Seth was, right in front of him. Seth hadn’t stirred when Lyor had called his name, and Lyor could tell even from where he was that his injuries looked severe, but they’d brought him to the triage area instead of leaving him outside, which meant that he was alive, and-

Lyor’s thudding exhilaration screeched to a halt as he saw the doctor, who had been giving Seth a rapid full-body examination, give a solemn shake of her head and gesture over to the area in the far corner- the black zone. That was where Lyor had just come from. It was where they put the dead.

No, no, no. There was a mistake here, and Lyor was going to fix it.

“Hey, hey, hey, wait.” Lyor yelped as he skidded to a halt in front of the stretcher. The doctor snapped her head up to look at him, and he glared defiantly back. “What the hell are you doing? Why aren’t you treating him- hey, no, he isn’t going anywhere.” The last of his demand was directed at the people attempting to move the stretcher, but they paused as Lyor slammed his palm against the moving door they were carrying. The jostle elicited a small moan from Seth, but Lyor couldn’t stop to register how much pain he must be in, because all he could think about was that a groan meant that he was most definitely alive.

“He isn’t dead,” Lyor said stubbornly. “Why are you putting him in the black zone?”

The doctor was a woman in her mid forties who looked as though she had the skills and willingness to knock Lyor to the floor if need be, but he held his ground. She sighed, eyes dancing distractedly around the room, looking from patient to patient. Somewhere on the other side of the room, a person was wailing- hoarse, animal shrieks of pain. Lyor’s unrelenting glare brought the doctor back in focus, though, and she glanced back down at Seth with her mouth a hard, unrelenting line.

“There’s nothing I can do for him,” she explained impatiently. “We don’t have the time or the resources needed to treat him.”

Lyor gaped wildly. This had to be some sort of sick joke. “But-“

“Look at him,” the doctor urged. Lyor did, and immediately regretted it. Up close, Seth’s injuries were worse than he’d thought. They were as bad as all the intrusive images Lyor had been trying to keep out of his head the whole day. They were the stuff of nightmares. There was a deep gouge ripped through his gut, visible through the shirt that had been half torn off. It was oozing blood, black and tarry. Lyor blinked, battling off a sudden wave of lightheadedness, and his eyes desperately roamed for something to latch onto, something that didn’t make him feel sick.

Sticking out of Seth’s trouser pocket was the corner of what looked like his White House ID. Seth always liked to keep it close on hand, even when he didn’t need it. Lyor trained his eyes on that instead.

“...massive amounts of blood loss,” the doctor’s voice swam back into his awareness, “and extensive trauma. I’m surprised he’s survived this long.” She dropped her voice, and this time Lyor could detect a hint of genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry, but we have bigger priorities here.”

That brought Lyor’s mind into razor sharp focus, and his lip curled as he tore his gaze away from Seth. “Bigger priorities?” he repeated, cold fury leaking from every inch of him. “Do you know who this is?” Lyor snagged the corner of Seth’s White House ID, wrenching it from its mud caked confines and shoving it triumphantly in the doctor’s face. “This is Seth Wright, the White House Press Secretary. He works directly under the President of the United States- ever heard of him?”

The doctor levelled him with a stony stare. “He could be the President himself, and I’d be telling you the same thing. I cannot treat this man. This is triage- we only treat those we can help.”

Lyor floundered desperately. “Then put him with the critically wounded. They’re being transported to the hospital soon, he can go with them.”

“That could be hours, and in his state, he wouldn’t make the trip,” the doctor replied smoothly. “And honestly, I doubt even hospital care would do anything at this point-“

“We need some help over here,” another doctor yelled over to them. “Fuck,” she cursed. She turned to the men carrying Seth. “Take him away, please.”

The men nodded, this time ignoring Lyor’s squawk of protest. The doctor turned back to him, already stepping away. “Excuse me, I have other patients that need me.”

Lyor watched her retreating back, seconds away from being swallowed up by the sea of patients and rescue teams and other doctors that made up the triage station. “Wait,” he called again, fruitlessly. He swallowed painfully. “Please!”

Lyor, as a rule, didn’t beg. He was going to have to make an exception here.

The doctor slowly turned back around, taking a few steps forward so that she was standing right in from of him. This time the regret was clear as day on her face. She reached out and clasped his hand in hers. “He probably only has a few minutes left,” she said. “You should be with him.”

So, this was it. Lyor yanked his hand viciously from the doctor’s grasp, stalking unsteadily over to where Seth had been laid down. He didn’t care about how sorry the doctor was, or how many other people needed her. He wanted to take that sympathy she’d offered him and smash it into pieces. He wanted to scream. He wanted to walk out the door and not look back.

He didn’t want to see Seth’s broken, mangled body again, but that’s where his feet were taking him, and he felt powerless to stop himself. In what felt like seconds, he was standing over Seth. Not his corpse, Lyor reminded himself stubbornly- he wasn’t dead. No yet. For now, Seth was still breathing, still clinging onto life.

Lyor wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Slowly, achingly, he lowered himself down so he was kneeling beside Seth. Now, with the distractions of the rest of the makeshift hospital faded like white noise into the background, Lyor could see just how badly hurt Seth really was. There wasn’t a single patch of skin that wasn’t blooming with ugly bruises. His left arm was tucked against his side, clearly broken in multiple places. And his left cheek- Lyor’s stomach contorted as he realised that the shadowed patch he’d initially thought was a bruise was actually the sag of collapsed bone where his cheekbone had been smashed in. The worst of it was the gaping stomach wound, but Lyor refused to look at that again.

He couldn’t help but begin the process of diagnosing, piecing together what happened. Seth must have been caught up in the wave, dragged along by the racing water. He must have been slammed pretty hard against something on his left side, and then snagged by some jagged debris-

Well, Lyor supposed it didn’t matter anymore, did it?

Seth’s eyelashes were fluttering feebly, and his lids cracked open a fraction. His eyes were cloudy and dull, but they still managed to fix on Lyor, and the fingers of his good arm twitched. Before, Seth’s breathing had been shallow, almost unnoticeable, but now it was getting harsher, as though he was working up the energy to speak.

“.....There you are...” he finally rasped, and a weak smile flickered across his face. “....been worried about you.”

Lyor blinked incredulously. “Worried about me?” A hysterical pearl of laughter bubbled out of him, but it cut off abruptly as Seth whimpered in wordless pain. His hazy eyes were flitting urgently from side to side, trying to make out what was going on around him. The look on his face was one Lyor had never seen on Seth before- one of pain and terrible, gut wrenching fear.

“Don’ feel good,” he slurred, panic warping his voice. “Somethin’- something’s wrong- I don’t-“

Seth choked off his words as a violent shudder wracked his entire frame. He was blinking rapidly, breaths getting more and more laboured.

“Lyor,” Seth begged, “what’s happening?”

Lyor froze. “You’re-“

Dying. The word dangled on his lips, but Lyor couldn’t bring himself to say it. He was going to deliver enough bad news today as it was. But lying wasn’t something he was prepared to do either. Lying was like a second language to Lyor by now, but he couldn’t- not to Seth. So, he simply sat in strangled silence.

The silence was enough, and Lyor watched as Seth’s body was overtaken by shaking as he realised what Lyor wasn’t saying. His eyes were wide and bright as he desperately peered up at Lyor, silently begging for- something. Anything. Lyor didn’t have anything to give. He wasn’t this guy- he was the last person anybody would want at their deathbed.

Seth moved his mouth like he was trying to say something else, but all that came out was a choking cough. Frothy saliva was pooling at the corner of his mouth, streaked through with blood.

Lyor once again felt the impulse to run kick in. He had been prepared to never see Seth again. He’d been prepared to find his body. But he wasn’t prepared to watch Seth die. That brought it all to a horrifyingly stark reality. Lyor despised being called a coward, but he’d take it if it meant not having to face what was happening.

Seth coughed again, long and drawn out, and Lyor rocked back on his heels. He needed to get away from this. “I- I’ll find you some water,” he mumbled, but as soon as he shifted to get up, Seth cried out.

“Don’t leave,” he managed to choke out, and Lyor stilled. Seth was too weak to move, but his fingers twitched desperately in Lyor’s direction, a clear demand. “Please, don’t,” Seth gasped again, and as his words became more and more difficult to understand Lyor realised with a jolt of horror that Seth was crying. Not sobs- he was too weak for that, but there were tears carving their way down the mud and blood smeared across Seth’s face.

“Don’t leave. I don’t- I-I don’t wanna die alone. I-“ his already thready voice broke completely. “Please, Lyor.”

Lyor lowered himself back down, feeling completely adrift. The only thing that pulled him in was Seth’s wide, pleading eyes. “Okay,” he soothed, voice steadier than he felt. “I’m right here, Seth. I won’t leave.”

“Promise?”

He hated this, he hated this, he hated this-

“I promise.”

Seth nodded jerkily. His hand was still moving, fingers scrabbling weakly against the wood of the door he was lying on, and with agonising trepidation, Lyor rested his hand on top. Seth’s skin was like ice. Lyor knew what was coming, but he couldn’t do anything except stay frozen stiff.

Another choked off splutter from Seth, his head lolling to the side to face Lyor properly. His eyes were completely unfocused now, but there was a fierce intensity about him as he breathed out his next words.

“Lyor.....are-are you.....”

Seth’s lips ghosted around silent sounds. They twitched once, twice.

Lyor waited. Seth wasn’t moving anymore.

There was an eerie hyper-focus in the room that hadn’t been there before. Earlier, everything had been muffled, as though he’d been underwater. Now though, through all the bustling chaos, Lyor could make out every rustle of fabric, every footstep, every muffled whimper. But none of it mattered, because the one thing he couldn’t hear was Seth’s breathing.

Lyor sucked in a gulp of iron tinged air, so deep it was as though he was trying to breath for the two of them. He pulled away from Seth’s clammy skin, numbly wiping his hand down uselessly on his filthy shirt. Seth’s eyes were still wide open, his liquid brown eyes blank and glassy. Lyor hated the look of them, but the idea of reaching out to close them made his skin crawl. He couldn’t touch him.

No- it. This wasn’t Seth anymore. This was a bag of broken bones and torn up skin. This was a corpse.

Lyor skimmed his tongue across his lips, tasting sea salt and blood. He reached up to rub at a smudge on his glasses. There was a process, he knew, that was waiting for him. These were the facts: he had to get up, he had to inform the President, he had to get onto the next flight back to Washington- one seat only, this time.

These were the facts: Seth was dead.

It registered somewhere deep in Lyor’s mind that those other facts were important as well, but he could only seem to focus on that last one. The others were like blips in comparison. It floated menacingly atop all his other thoughts, like some great, unavoidable iceberg he was about to wreck himself upon. Lyor let it draw closer and closer, until a gentle hand on his shoulder brought him back into the world.

“Excuse me?” a wavering voice asked. Lyor didn’t bother looking up, but it sounded like an old woman.

“What’s that man’s name?” The woman asked.

Lyor blinked tiredly. “Why?”

The woman’s voice wobbled with emotion. “Because he saved my family. Carried my grandchildren to the roof.”

What grandchildren? What roof? None of this was making any sense. Through the fog, a bubble of frustration welled up.

“...What are you talking about?” Lyor asked. The words didn’t sound like they were coming from his mouth. It was as though they were an echo from some place far, far away.

The woman seemed a little more hesitant now, though she didn’t move her hand from where it rested on his shoulder. Lyor wanted to rip it off him, but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate with him. “W-we were in a cafe, and somebody was warned that the tsunami was coming, so we moved up onto the roof. This man, he carried my grandchildren up- they’re only little, you see. There were more people downstairs, though, so he went back to help. And then- then the wave- oh.” There was the sound of sniffling. “I’m so sorry.”

Her words took a few seconds to penetrate his mind, but once inside they settled like stones, heavy and immovable. There was a roof. Seth could have been on a fucking roof.

Lyor still hadn’t moved. “His name’s Seth.” he said blankly. “He...he was my friend.”

There was a beat of silence. The hand on his shoulder tightened. “A-are you alright, dear?”

Lyor stood up abruptly, and the woman withdrew her hand with a soft noise of surprise. “I’m fine,” he said, smiling wanly at her, and without waiting for a reply he strode off, away from her, away from the body, away, away, away. He had to go talk to the President.

In his left hand, Lyor felt the bite of plastic, and as he glanced down he realised he still had Seth’s White House ID clutched in his hand. He’d completely forgotten about it. Lyor stared blankly at Seth’s plastic image. Seth seemed to stare back. He looked happy. Lyor tightened his grip around it, let the smooth edges carve grooves into his skin. The corners of the plastic cut in deep, but Lyor didn’t register the pain.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.


	2. Twelve Weeks Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking a leaf outta the DS writers’ book and doing a big ol’ time skip. Don’t worry, the stuff that happened in between will be revisited.

Lyor stalked through the White House. It was a bustling panic of a day, with people pressing on him from all sides as they made their way through the corridors. Lyor shoved his way through the horde, not caring if he knocked anybody off balance. There was only one person he cared about at the moment, and right then everyone one else was just an obstacle.

Lyor craned his neck agitatedly as he peered past face after nameless face. He felt like he was close, he just had to keep searching, searching-

There, right up ahead, Lyor saw the back of a familiar head.

“Seth!” Lyor called, heart singing with a relief that he couldn’t fathom. Seth didn’t seem to hear him though, continuing on his own way down the White House corridors. Lyor growled in frustration, resuming his battle against the crowd. Seth kept moving as well, seeming to pass seamlessly through the staffers as though he was parting the waters.

“Seth!” he called again, louder this time as he pushed on. Why couldn’t he hear him? For a brief second, he lost sight of his friend’s bobbing head as Seth slipped between two junior staffers, and the panic that gripped him seemed to seal off his lungs with concrete. With a surge of newfound urgency, Lyor pushed on. He tried to speed up, but if anything he seemed to be getting slower, the crowd as thick and impenetrable as brick as it closed in on him. In fact, as he looked around him, it seemed as though the amount of people had doubled, filling the hallway to the brim.

Lyor managed to squeeze his way through the next wave of people, catching a second long snatch of that familiar, dark head of hair as Seth continued his steady path through the halls of the White House. Time seemed to drag on forever as they played this game of cat and mouse, Seth wandering on and Lyor desperately trying to catch up. His throat was beginning to tear from the amount of times he’d called Seth’s name- not that it had made any difference.

Finally- finally!- Lyor spied a handy gap in the swarm of people, and he slipped through, turning straight onto the next corridor. He was bracing himself for a new onslaught of bodies to push through, but he stopped short when he realised that this new corridor was bare. Lyor swivelled back around, and with a jolt of dull surprise he realised that all the people clogging up the hallway he’d just emerged from had disappeared as well, blinking away into thin air. In less than a second, the White House had become abandoned. There was only him.

And, at the end of that long, empty corridor, Seth.

He had finally stopped walking, but hadn’t turned around. He just stood, statuesque, at the end of the hallway. 

“Seth?” Lyor proffered into the empty air as he inched his way down the corridor, footsteps swallowed up by the thick carpet. Despite only holding two people, the hallway suddenly seemed unbearably claustrophobic. Lyor halted- all the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he eyed Seth’s shadow. It stretched out long and menacing from behind him, like a beckoning finger, like a dark, hooded figure. Lyor, with a chilling certainty, realised that he did not want Seth to turn around.

But he did. A slow turn, one that Lyor couldn’t tear his eyes away from, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to. There was no unseeing that face: those sunken eyes, or the deep, sickening dip of his smashed cheekbone.

“Lyor.....are-are you.....”

Seth’s lips kept moving, but Lyor couldn’t hear him. All the sounds, everything, was swept away. He could hear it coming, the thundering roar of the water-

Lyor opened his eyes.

He sucked in a lengthy breath, blinking furiously up at the blurry ceiling as he pressed his taut body into his bed, trying to ground himself in reality. This was his ritual after these nightmares- knead his fingers reassuringly into the mattress, count his breaths, wait for the jackhammer beating of his heart to settle. At least he hadn’t screamed himself awake this time.

It took a few minutes for Lyor to be able to move again. He hated how he froze up, muscles so locked from tension it was like he was bound by duct tape. He endured it though, letting his breathing even out until he could grope for his glasses, pausing only to surreptitiously swipe at his eyes before sliding them on.

His bedroom ceiling came into full focus, along with the warm morning light spilling across it. At least he’d managed to sleep through the night- Lyor was never able to get back to sleep after his nightmares, and sleep-deprived Lyor was not a man anyone wanted to cross.

Time to start the day, he thought wearily. He swiped his phone from where it was charging on his bedside table to check the time properly- 5:53. He’d beaten his alarm, and he had plenty of time for his morning run before heading to the White House. It was a good thing too- he had really been falling behind on his steps recently, too busy with work.

Lyor scrolled through his notifications as he heaved himself out of bed and into the bathroom. A few emails- he could begin composing some replies in his head while jogging- a text from Kendra that he hadn’t seen the night before, and a reminder.

‘Interrogation time- 2:30 PM’

Lyor gritted his teeth as he began brushing them. He’d been seeing his therapist on the same two days and the same time for a month now, but being reminded of it still hit him with a fresh wave of irritation every time. Listening to a stranger lecture him for an hour about what his feelings were and how he should be feeling them was just slightly above dipping his face into hot tar on the list of Lyor's favourite things to do. He'd even take a solid, uninterrupted hour of one on one conversation with Aaron Shore over therapy.

Still, when your boss practically orders you to attend therapy, you suck it up and attend therapy. Especially when your boss is the President of the United States. Lyor couldn’t say he appreciated his job effectively being held hostage, though. The President had told him that if he wanted to continue working as the White House Political Director, he’d have to seek professional help. Out of “concern for his wellbeing,” apparently. Well, Lyor had more than a few radical ideas about where the President could shove his concern.

Voicing them wouldn’t have done anything but solidify the President’s suspicions that Lyor was a nutcase, though. He worked through his displeasure in different ways- he might have to attend therapy, but it didn’t mean he had to listen to anything that was said.

Lyor’s gums stung in protest and he winced as he pulled his toothbrush out of his mouth, suddenly conscious of how severely he’d been brushing his teeth. Even just thinking about the exercise in stupidity that was his therapy was enough to push him over the edge, apparently. He spat into the sink and watched the swirl of mingled toothpaste and blood wash away down the drain with thinned lips. Alright, that was as clear a sign as any- no more thinking about therapy. Lyor was going to go for his jog. Getting the blood pumping would clear his thoughts, keep his mind off of therapy. And that nightmare.

Yes, that was nightmare was definitely not something Lyor wanted to dwell on. Just the thought of it left him with the distinct feeling of stepping unexpectedly off a steep drop, his stomach plunging. That slow turn, the broken, lopsided face- no.

Chasing him through the White House was a change, though. Lyor had to give his brain credit- it knew how to keep things fresh.

Work was a safe topic, a steady ballast, and Lyor latched onto it gratefully as he jogged and as he made his way to the White House. He kept his thoughts on Staff at 8, and the ambassadors he had to meet with, and, of course, the press briefing. Nearly three months on, and they still hadn’t acquired a new Press Secretary, so Lyor had been pulling his weight- much to the chagrin of the press corps, who didn’t much like his style, apparently. 

That was an issue that would likely come up in their morning meeting, judging by the warning look Aaron shot him as they gathered with the President. Lyor cocked an eyebrow at him in response, smiling dryly. Winding Aaron up was just too easy, especially now that he was moonlighting as Chief of Staff and was wound like a spring. Small pleasures.

They went through the issues of the day, Lyor chiming in when he was needed. There was a tense edge to the air as their discussions eventually looped back to where it always did- Emily. The elephant in the room. Kendra looked vaguely put upon- as she always did when their former boss was brought up- Aaron, uncomfortable, and the President, of course, full of bitter remorse. 

The investigation into Emily and her possible collusion with Russian agents was still on its first legs, but that was long enough to know that things weren’t looking good for her. Lyor was just grateful that she’d resigned before these allegations surfaced. They were going to need to keep her at arm’s length, especially once the press caught wind and started sniffing around- they’d been trying to keep the investigation under wraps, but that only lasted so long in Washington. 

Emily had assured them that she had been acting in the President’s best interests- or trying to, anyway. The sabotage efforts were linked to Moss, not to Kirkman. The President still found it hard to believe, but Lyor couldn’t say the same. He’d known Emily for years, long enough to know how ruthless she could get when backed into a corner. It was what made her so brilliant, once upon a time. But now it was just making her a liability.

So, Lyor did what needed to be done. He reminded the President once again that Emily was radioactive and that the administration would do well to separate itself from her as much as possible, Aaron and Kendra nodding in agreement after a few hesitant seconds. They’d all been clear about this since the moment they’d been informed about the investigation, but with the President’s lingering doubts still evident, it was worth repeating.

And with that, they were back to the other issue they’d been circling for weeks now- the two vacancies in their Senior Staff. Lyor could grudgingly admit that Aaron was efficient enough as a stand-in Chief of Staff, but for the last few months he’d been splitting his duties, and that just wasn’t sustainable.

Apparently, the President had immediately offered him the position full time, Kendra had told Lyor- Aaron confided in her these days, it seemed. It wasn’t as if he had other options any more. But, Kendra had continued, Aaron was wary of what bouncing between jobs the way he had been would look like, and he was settled in as National Security Advisor. So, the title of Chief of Staff remained unfilled.

The Press Secretary role, too, loomed conspicuously empty. The President was reluctant to find someone to fill a position shadowed by a dead man. The others as well- it was their grieving process, he supposed.

Lyor wished they could hurry the fuck up with it.

“We’re down to Keith Schuler or Melissa Davis for Chief of Staff,” Aaron said, eyeing Lyor carefully as he continued, “but we still haven’t narrowed down potentials for Press Secretary.”

“We need to find permanent replacements, fast,” Lyor said. “This administration is becoming notorious for lengthy staff vacancies- we didn’t even have a VP for a year and a half.”

Aaron nodded solemnly. “I think finding a Press Secretary is our top priority right now. I can handle being acting Chief of Staff for a little longer, but-“

“Chief of Staff is a more vital position to fill,” Lyor cut in sharply, twitching under the cautious looks they were all sending him, the same ones any time the Press Secretary job was brought up. “And my capability of standing in as Press Secretary isn’t in question here. I’m doing fine.”

Aaron scoffed. “Fine? You’re unapproachable. Combative, even.”

“Mm, I think you mean, ‘effective.’ See, this is why I’m in charge of the words this administration uses, because you clearly-“

“Thank you, Lyor,” the President cut in sternly, giving them both a warning look. “Both of you go over the list of names for Press Secretary, try and narrow it down to at least four. And reach out to Schuler and Davis. Thank you, everyone.”

Lyor turned to the door at the dismissal, happy to ignore the looks Aaron and Kendra were sending him. That was replaced with a migraine-flash of irritation when he heard the President speak up from his desk.

“Lyor? Stay back a moment, please.”

Lyor barely held in a sigh of impatience, slowly swivelling to face his boss as the others filed out of the office. Lyor knew exactly what was going on here, could see it in the President’s expectant, encouraging smile. How many times had he been the subject of that look over the last month? That was the look of a man about to check in on his new pet project.

Right on cue, the President spoke. “I’ll let you get back to work in a minute, I just...wanted to have a quick word about how you’re going.”

“Well enough to continue as Press Secretary for the time being,” Lyor said sharply. “Despite what Aaron thinks.”

The President smiled. “Somehow I think getting you to be courteous to the press would be too big of an ask even under the best of circumstances.” He got up from behind his desk, walking over to gaze thoughtfully out of one of the windows. “I have to admit, I was dubious about letting you continue covering as Press Secretary after...what happened last month- but you know that.”

Lyor’s lips thinned- he knew all too well. He’d spent hours arguing with the President that he was the only suitable replacement for Seth within the current staff. He’d gotten to keep the position, in exchange for promising to start seeing a therapist. It was just worth it. Barely.

Tom didn’t seem to read the annoyance sneaking onto Lyor’s face, or maybe by now he’d just learned to ignore it. Irritation seemed to be Lyor’s first instinct these days. He continued on. “But you seem to be doing well. Better.” He turned from the window, fixing Lyor with another smile, a proud one. “I’m glad you’re continuing with therapy. I know you were reluctant, but it can do wonders.”

“Yes, sir.” Lyor couldn’t disagree that he was better than he was a month ago, but he didn’t think therapy was the cause. In those first two months after returning from Taurasi, Lyor had been...unfocused. But he’d gotten things under control- it had just taken some self discipline. It certainly wasn’t due to the President’s mothering. Lyor would prefer to deal with his boss as little as possible, but the man could not be deterred. Guilt was a powerful force, after all.

The President sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “It’s been a difficult few months,” he said gravely, “for all of us. I...” he looked back at Lyor, and for the first time he noticed how sharp the shadows lining the President’s face were. 

“I’m having trouble with the idea of a new Press Secretary,” the President admitted. “Replacing Seth is...” He sighed again. “He had been by my side from the beginning. I’d always imagined he’d be there until the end of my Presidency.”

Lyor swallowed, steadfastly fixing his eyes on the carpet. He didn’t want to hear about the President’s grief. He didn’t want to talk about Seth with him. He didn’t want to be there at all.

The President finally seemed to sense how much Lyor wanted to leave, because he clapped a hand on Lyor’s shoulder. “Just remember that you aren’t alone, Lyor,” he said finally. “We’re all here to help you.”

A smile stretched out, cold and brittle, across Lyor’s lips. “Thank you, sir.”

He bristled furiously inside as he stalked out of the office. With the amount of self-restraint he had to exercise to not laugh in the President’s face, he should win a medal. He didn’t need anybody’s goddamn help, least of all the President’s. That man had done enough already.

The quietly brewing anger carried him through the rest of the day until he had to drag himself off to his therapy appointment. He didn’t bother hiding it- it helped to scare most of the people who thought to bother him into silence. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to have quite the same effect on Dr Penfold, who only straightened in his chair like a man steeling himself for war. 

Penfold, recommended to Lyor by the President, was a seasoned psychotherapist with a penchant for not taking people’s shit. This was an attitude that Lyor would usually respect, if it wasn’t being directed at him. Not that it was going to stop Lyor from trying his damndest to drag his heels in these sessions, though. 

“Lyor, good to see you again,” Dr Penfold greeted Lyor as he perched himself on the edge of the couch- he refused to make himself comfortable out of principle. Lyor didn’t dignify that with a reply, instead choosing only to shoot the doctor a derisive look. He wasn’t going to pretend he was anything but bitter about being here. Dr Penfold clearly knew that as well, his mouth twitching as he spoke as if he was enjoying some little joke. Lyor continued in his stony silence, but Penfold pressed on, undeterred.

“How have you been feeling since we last spoke?”

“I’ve been great.” Lyor said shortly. Something oddly freeing about therapy, he’d noticed, was that he didn’t have to bother making his lies sound genuine. Nothing that was said mattered, after all.

His therapist hummed, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. His bespectacled gaze fell on Lyor’s hands, which were distractedly scrunching the fabric of his trousers, creasing the neatly pressed fabric into an array of wrinkles. Lyor followed his eyes, faintly surprised to see what he had been doing- he hadn’t even realised. He stopped.

Too late, though. “You seem tense,” Penfold noted. “Have you been stressed, recently?”

Lyor had to snort at that. “Is that a trick question? I work at the White House, stress is par for the course.”

“You know what I mean. Have you been more stressed than usual? Found yourself getting... overwhelmed?”

Lyor knew exactly what he was getting at, and he slid neatly back into his monosyllabic shell. “I’ve been fine.”

Penfold wasn’t satisfied- he was a quick study, apparently, and he’d figured out by their third session that Lyor wasn’t going to do his job for him by monologuing. If he wanted elaboration, he was going to have to work for it.

“You’ve been managing your sleep?”

“Yes, I’ve been fine.” That wasn’t even a lie, not really. He’d been getting sleep- nightmare plagued sleep, but sleep all the same. And it wasn’t as if Lyor could do anything about the nightmares.

Well, except talk about them, Dr Penfold would probably say. Lyor rolled his eyes internally.

Dr Penfold nodded, looking doubtful. Lyor imagined they’d probably loop back to this soon enough, but for now the therapist was moving on.

“And your eating-“

“I. Am. Fine.” Lyor bit out, annoyed at the flush he could feel heating his cheeks. He hated these questions, and he hated his body’s automatic reaction to them even more- the embarrassment he couldn’t hide. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have a hope of going back to- to...” Lyor floundered slightly with how to phrase it, and his lip curled in further frustration, “to...how I was before. Not with the others keeping me under 24/7 surveillance.”

“Your friends?”

“My coworkers,” Lyor corrected pointedly. Dr Penfold quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing. 

If Lyor cared to calculate, he’d say that about half the time he’d spent in therapy so far had been dedicated to complaining about the White House staffers. Aaron, practically waving his buffoonery around like a badge, thinking he knew better than Lyor simply because he was temporarily the boss. Emily- she was managing to give Lyor migraines even after resigning. And he couldn’t forget the President, with his patronising mothering, acting as if he and Lyor had some kindred connection because they’ve both seen a shrink. And Kendra- well, Kendra was fine, most of the time, but she could be as cloying as the rest of them. The difference was, she was sneaky about it.

It was the one thing Lyor was happy to talk about at length in therapy. Those rants could eat up a solid 45 minutes of any session, leaving Dr Penfold no time to ask any inane questions, and it was pretty good stress relief as well. Lyor considered it a win-win.

Lyor eyed the clock. 51 minutes to go- he reckoned he could work with that.

“The President can’t go a week without calling me into his office ‘for a chat.’ Asking me how I’m doing, if I’m handling the workload.” Lyor scowled, working himself up into a fervent energy. “And Aaron has made it very clear that he doesn’t think I should still be filling in as Press Secretary. They’re both convinced that I’m some- some fragile glass butterfly that’s going to break under the slightest pressure. It’s infuriating.”

Lyor took a breath, ready to continue his diatribe, but Dr Penfold took the opportunity to jump in. 

“It’s understandable to feel frustrated or overwhelmed by other people’s concern. Have you tried telling them that you need more space?”

Lyor snapped his mouth shut, affronted by the interruption. Did spitting insults count as asking for more space? To be fair, his barbs were like water off a duck’s back to Kendra by now, and he couldn’t expect Aaron to understand his intentions without spelling them out. As for the President- Lyor had managed to keep his mouth shut most of the time. He was quite enjoying not being fired, thank you very much.

Dr Penfold read his answer in his silence, and he nodded sagely. “These are people who care about you. They’re trying to show their support in the best way they know how.”

Lyor scoffed, languidly tipping his head back. “You make it sound so altruistic.”

“You don’t think it is?”

“I think...” Lyor continued studying the ceiling, mulling over the words running through his head. This was more forthcoming that he’d ever been in therapy, but this diversion- psychoanalysing his coworkers- was too good to pass up. It was far better than psychoanalysing himself, at any rate.

“I think the President is overcompensating because when he looks at me, all he sees is the other man who didn’t come back alive. As if by ‘saving me from myself,’” Lyor air-quoted sardonically, “he’ll be able to make up for the fact that Seth is dead. Well, I’m not interested in that. He’s looking for someone to absolve him of his guilt?” Lyor’s lips twisted bitterly. “It isn’t going to be me.”

Dr Penfold’s eyes lit up in satisfaction, and Lyor tensed. The man had obviously gotten something from that, something that Lyor was pretty sure he wasn’t going to like.

“...Because you think he deserves to feel that way.”

Lyor’s gaze dropped, guillotine sharp, back fully onto his therapist. Faintly, he realised he was scrunching up his trousers again.

Dr Penfold laced his fingers together, leaning forward with eyes so intensely focused that Lyor was sure anybody else would have averted their own. Lyor wasn’t anybody, though, so he met the man’s gaze with stubborn defiance.

“I wanted to revisit this, what we started touching on last week- this idea of blame. Who do you blame for Seth’s death, Lyor?”

“I...” the words stuck in Lyor’s throat for a moment. Not because he didn’t know, but because he was struck by the confidence of his answer. “Seth didn’t have to be in Taurasi. I would have been able to have handled negotiations with the governor on my own- I didn’t need....” Lyor trailed off, remembering the words he’d spoken to Seth, right before he’d left to get a coffee. Right before....

“Let’s close this deal and get back to the Alamo. They need reinforcements...even if I don’t.” he’d said.

“...I didn’t need reinforcement,” Lyor finished quietly. “But the President sent Seth with me anyway.”

“So you blame the President.”

Lyor shrugged, deliberately casual as he struggled to clamp down on the simmering anger that always bubbled up when he dwelled on this.“Tom Kirkman is a good man, I’m not saying he isn’t. But good men make mistakes. And this mistake happened to get someone killed.”

“But you agree that he could never have been able to foresee what happened in Taurasi. Nobody could have. It was a natural disaster-“

Lyor snapped. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be a clairvoyant to know that if Seth wasn’t there, he wouldn’t have ended up on that hotel floor with his guts ripped open!”

Dr Penfold raised his hands peaceably, and Lyor realised with a jolt that he had nearly risen out of his seat, every inch of him practically vibrating. He sighed, shaking his head as he sank back onto the lounge.

“Look, it’s a simple equation. Seth didn’t need to go to Taurasi. The President sent him anyway. Seth then died. If Seth had stayed in the White House he would still be alive. Ergo, the President played a part in his death.”

Dr Penfold nodded thoughtfully, and there was a pregnant pause. “You want to know what I think?”

Lyor couldn’t resist rolling his eyes this time. “Oh, please share.”

“You’re so eager to assign blame for what happened, even in the face of this act of God- you can’t get angry at a tsunami, now can you?” Penfold quirked his lips. “And you don’t have a god to be angry at. So you deflect, latching onto the first logical explanation you can think of to blame somebody else, because you can’t face the fact that you blame yourself.”

Lyor’s muscles felt like concrete. “What are you talking about?”

“You blame yourself for Seth’s death. You feel like you didn’t do enough. That’s why you’re throwing yourself into your work now, because you don’t want to risk falling short again.”

“Remind me where you got your degree? Because if this is the sort of psychoanalysis they’re teaching these days then I fear for the future of your field.”

Dr Penfold smiled knowingly. “There you go again- deflecting.”

Lyor worked his throat silently, trying to conjure up a defence. He was at a loss.“You sound like you want me to blame myself,” he finally seethed.

“Lyor, I want you to accept that this is what you’re feeling,” Dr Penfold huffed. “I can’t help you until you learn to actually acknowledge the root of the problem.”

Lyor leaned in towards Dr Penfold, smile cold and sharp as a razor. “The only reason I am here,” he said slowly, “is so that my boss doesn’t think I’m going to slit my wrists. As far as ‘facing myself’ goes, I’m afraid I’m not interested in any help you have to offer.”

Dr Penfold pressed his lips together in a thin, unwavering line. “We’ll come back to this later,” he eventually warned, and Lyor smirked in satisfaction.

They went back to more comfortable- as comfortable as any therapy session could get- topics, like Lyor’s nightmares, his friendship with Kendra, and the possibility of him going on anti-anxiety medication. But Lyor was barely engaged, mind still furiously working over what Dr Penfold had said. 

It was ridiculous. Honestly, it was downright insulting. There was no reason for Lyor to feel guilty- none of his therapist’s crackpot psychological deductions followed any semblance of logic. The President was the one that sent Seth to Taurasi. The tsunami was what killed him. Those were the facts, plain and simple.

you could have looked harder could have found him faster could have saved him-

Lyor shook away the venomous whisper in his mind. That wasn’t what happened.

His fuming swallowed his thoughts as he travelled back to the White House, even as he made his way through the West Wing corridors to his office. He was so distracted that he didn’t even see Tricia until he nearly smacked into her on his way through the doorway.

“Please,” Lyor hissed out through a startled gasp, “do not sneak up on me like that!”

“Mr Boone! Hi, sorry about that,” she said, clearly deciding it wasn’t worth pointing out that Lyor was the one who ran into her. Lyor slipped past her, only half listening to his assistant as she continued talking.

“I set up that meeting with Senator Givens for tomorrow-“

“Mm-hm.”

“-and I found those files you were asking for.”

“Huh?” Lyor glanced over. “Oh, yeah, great, just-“ he waved indistinctly in the direction of his desk. “Put them...somewhere.”

“Already on your desk, sir,” Tricia said with a smile.

Lyor blinked. “Right. Good.” He fumbled over to his desk, staring despairingly down at the hurricane of paperwork that had accumulated there. His tried-and-true ‘organised chaos’ method of filing was not quite cutting it anymore. There were the new files from Tricia at the top of the pile, and the other documents he needed were...somewhere.

He started meticulously sorting through the stacks of paperwork cluttering his desk, but paused when he realised Tricia was still in the room. He glanced up, raising an impatient eyebrow.

“...Did you need something?”

Tricia fidgeted, chewing her lip as she threw him a cautious look. Lyor, not interested in guessing games, opened his mouth to dismiss her, when she spoke.

“Have you eaten today, sir?”

Lyor stared at her flatly. “No. Been busy.”

“Because I can run and get something for you if-“

“Not necessary,” he interrupted her sharply, turning back to the task of finding the documents. He was starting to go in circles, flipping through the same pages, but he still couldn’t find them. He started ripping through them, movements jerky as pressure in his temples began to build.

“Where the hell are these- fuck!” An unwieldy hand movement smacked a teetering stack of files and they toppled over, knocking over his pen holder and spilling onto the floor in an avalanche of swirling paper. Lyor cursed again as he knelt to scoop them back up, Tricia mirroring him with wide eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he snapped, and Tricia slowly stood back up. Her feet, however, remained unmoving.

“Are....you okay, Mr Boone?” her soft voice came from above. Lyor tensed, clutching a bulging stack of paper with white knuckled fists as he slowly stood up, pinning Tricia to the spot with a suspicious glare.

“Did Kendra put you up to this?”

Tricia’s mouth pulled down into a frown. “Put me up to...? Sorry, I don’t understand.”

Lyor slammed the files down. “This- this- checking if I’ve eaten, asking if I’m ‘okay?’ It’s got her signature all over it.”

“Miss Daynes hasn’t asked me to do anything!”

“Hmm, could’ve fooled me,” Lyor sneered. “You know, you’re not very good at this spy gimmick. You’re a terrible liar- you’re gonna need to work on that if you want to get anywhere in this town.”

“Mr Boone, I-“ Tricia stuttered out, her look of confusion overtaken by blinding consternation, but Lyor cut her off.

“No, no. No. We’re done here,” Lyor spat, waving her out with a vicious flick of his wrist, “Just, uh, tell Kendra that I don’t need a babysitter, got it?” 

Tricia nodded hastily as she back-pedalled out of the room. Lyor didn’t bother watching her go, just slumped into his chair, gazing wearily at the mess of paper on the ground. As Lyor’s eyes roamed over them he realised, with a flicker of amusement, that the file he had been looking for was right in the centre. He snagged it from the pile, casting one last look at the other papers before turning back to his desk. He had all he needed for the moment right there- he could pick up the rest later. Right now he just needed to work.

Which he managed to do for a blessed fifteen minutes before an angry spitfire by the name of Kendra Daynes blew into his office. Lyor couldn’t help but be grateful that there was a desk between them, what with the way her glare was skewering him.

“I just spoke to Tricia,” she announced. Lyor unceremoniously dropped his pen, squinting up at her.

“Oh good. Did she pass on my message?”

It only took a split second for Kendra’s dangerous expression to tell Lyor that he’d made a grave mistake.

“Yes,” Kendra hissed. “She did. Are you serious, Lyor? You thought I was using Tricia to check up on you? Firstly-“ she held up a hand to silence Lyor’s attempted protest, “I haven’t told Tricia to do anything- she was asking about you because she’s worried about you. And secondly, if you have a problem with me, you come to me. Don’t use Tricia as a messenger pigeon.”

Lyor wondered how far he could push his luck. “She’s my PA. She’s paid to be a messenger pigeon.”

“Well then at least be decent about it,” Kendra snapped. “I know you’re going through a tough time, Lyor, but that does not give you a free pass to be an ass.”

Lyor dropped his gaze. He wasn’t surprised that Kendra was tearing him apart for this- she had a major soft spot for his PA, had taken her under her wing almost. Lyor’s gut twisted- he didn’t enjoy the scorch of Kendra’s disapproval one bit. And really, he knew he’d been unfair to Tricia. He didn’t want to risk chasing away the best personal assistant he’d ever had.

“...I’ll apologise to Tricia, give her a day off or something. Happy?”

“Not really,” Kendra crossed her arms, mouth still drawn in a harsh line. If she was expecting an apology for him assuming she’d been behind Tricia snooping, then she was in for a disappointment. He felt perfectly justified in that.

“In my defence, checking up on me like that is completely your style. And I’m sick of people thinking that I need to be constantly watched in case I have a nervous breakdown.”

Kendra gave him a pointed look. “Can you blame us?”

Lyor grimaced. That was fair. It didn’t make the humiliation any less, though. Kendra’s face softened as she took in the toppled pile of paper, and the look of defeat on Lyor’s face. She took a seat opposite him, casting a kind look across the desk.

“Lyor, we’re not trying to be overbearing, We just worry. I know there’s a lot of stuff going on in your head, but you won’t let anyone in to help you through it, and...” she sighed. “You can talk about it, you know? It’s okay to...not be okay.”

A smirk dangled from Lyor’s lips.“Oh, that’s good. That’s very good. You should put that on a poster.”

“Lyor.”

“Maybe a mug.”

“What did I say about being an ass?” Kendra asked, but there was a twinkle in her eye.

Lyor leaned back in his chair, raising his eyebrows at Kendra. “I do talk about it, twice a week for an hour. I pay good money for it too, believe me.”

Kendra barked out a laugh. “Oh please, like you expect me to believe you do anything but lie and snark at that therapist,” she scoffed. “I mean, you can talk to us. To me.”

“Talking about it isn’t going to do anything, Kendra. It’s an exercise in futility.” Lyor said. “It’s not going to...change what happened.”

Kendra inclined her head, a shadow of sadness crossing her face. “No,” she admitted,” it’s not. But it might change how you process it now. I know after my dad died, and after I saw the First Lady’s crash, it felt good just to vent, y’know?”

Lyor didn’t know. Talking about Taurasi had never made him feel anything other than the urge to throw up. Or punch a wall.

“I just don’t like seeing you drowning in this,” Kendra said. “I want you to actually make an effort to help yourself.”

Lyor sighed, massaging the point in his temples where a headache still raged. “I’m seeking professional help, I...I might be going on meds. What more do you people want from me?”

“We want you to get better,” Kendra smiled. “And to stop abusing your staff.”

She stood up, and for the first time Lyor noticed there was something in her hands. When she placed it on his desk, he realised what it was- a mandarin.

“Tricia told me you hadn’t eaten,” she explained at Lyor’s questioning look.

A grin bloomed across his face. “Okay, you know this just proves my point, right?”

“Shut up and eat,” she laughed, eyes sparkling. She pulled away towards the door, and Lyor watched her go as he began to peel the mandarin.

“I could lie to you.”

“What?” Kendra turned back quizzically.

Lyor shrugged. “If I talked to you about everything- I could lie to you as well.”

A warm smile spread across Kendra’s face. “You know you can’t lie to me, Lyor.”

Lyor chuckled as she disappeared around the doorway. Kendra had a settling effect on his mood, even when she started conversations by yelling at him. And, he had to admit, eating made him feel better as well. But as day turned into night and Lyor forced himself to go home instead of staying hunkered behind his desk, he could feel his good mood being washed away.

Lyor hated the nights the most. He couldn’t escape the nights.

He went through his nighttime routine like there were chains wrapped around his ankles, weighing him down. He washed his face, brushed his teeth, set the alarm on his phone, all with concrete-set reluctance. As he dug his pyjamas out of his drawer- one benefit of getting home at a reasonable time, he could admit, was not having to sleep in his work clothes- his fingers brushed against the cold sheen of plastic. Lyor’s heart thumped a little louder in his chest.

He edged the drawer further open, peering in through the dim light. Right there, half hidden under an old, folded up t-shirt, was Seth’s White House ID. Lyor had no reasonable explanation for why he’d kept it, so he decided that he’d simply eliminate the need for an explanation at all, and tucked it into the bottom of his drawer. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of it, but he couldn’t stand looking at it for too long. He preferred to keep it hidden.

Lyor slammed the drawer shut. As he stood up, he was suddenly struck by an uncanny feeling creeping over him. The light seeping in from the streetlights was oddly dulled, and all around him the shadows in the room seemed to be bent slightly out of shape. Everything was just the tiniest bit off-kilter. Lyor shivered- when did it get so cold?- and tried to ignore it as he changed. It was hard to keep out of his mind though. It almost felt like he was in a dream- but Lyor knew that wasn’t true. His dreams were never this peaceful.

The strangeness of the moment faded from Lyor’s mind as he climbed into bed, explained away as tired imaginings and replaced instead with a resigned curiosity over what he was going to dream up that night. Sometimes it would be snippets of memory, replaying Seth’s last moments again and again. Other times he’d dream of Seth when the wave hit, screaming for help, or hurling accusations. Sometimes, he was the one caught up in the wave, dragged down, down, down into the murky depths of the water.

Lyor shut his eyes. He hoped to drown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seth’s POV next chapter...


	3. Remember

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting this today instead of Monday because it’s super short. Next chapter will be longer, I promise!

screaming running loudloudloud water like thunder in his ears dragging him down

down

down

down

blood in his mouth mixing with salty sea the taste of it like pennies filling his lungs he screams screams screams but nobody can hear

(everyone else is screaming too)

slam! vision dark ears ringing he feels the tear of his clothes his skin and he still can’t breathe

the shrieks the roar the swell of the water all fade away there is nothing but the warm touch of the sun on his face and the ringing in his ears (so l o u d)

and

darkness.

pain pain pain rising and falling like the gasping tide in out in out

sound. movement. voices. pain. always pain. cold seeping into his bones turning slowly to warmth with yelling yelling so much yelling and then a voice

a face?

a promise.

gentle words. mumbling. coughing. warm air warm tears warm hand on his. lips moving desperate to speak please please please

a question.

and then

..

...

....

.....

screaming running loudloudloud water like thunder in his ears dragging him down

down

down

down

blood in his mouth mixing with salty sea the taste of it like pennies filling his lungs he screams screams screams but nobody can hear

(everyone else is screaming too)

slam! vision dark ears ringing he feels the tear of his clothes his skin and he still can’t breathe

the shrieks the roar the swell of the water all fade away there is nothing but the warm touch of the sun on his face and the ringing in his ears (so l o u d)

and

darkness.

pain pain pain rising and falling like the gasping tide in out in out

sound. movement. voices. pain. always pain. cold seeping into his bones turning slowly to warmth with yelling yelling so much yelling and then a voice

a face?

a promise.

gentle words. mumbling. coughing. warm air warm tears warm hand on his. lips moving desperate to speak please please please

a question.

and then

..

...

....

.....

screaming running loudloudloud water like thunder in his ears dragging him down

down

down

down

blood in his mouth mixing with salty sea the taste of it like pennies filling his lungs he screams screams screams but nobody can hear

(everyone else is screaming too)

slam! vision dark ears ringing he feels the tear of his clothes his skin and he still can’t breathe

the shrieks the roar the swell of the water all fade away there is nothing but the warm touch of the sun on his face and the ringing in his ears (so l o u d)

and

darkness.

pain pain pain rising and falling like the gasping tide in out in out

sound. movement. voices. pain. always pain. cold seeping into his bones turning slowly to warmth with yelling yelling so much yelling and then a voice

a face?

a promise.

gentle words. mumbling. coughing. warm air warm tears warm hand on his. lips moving desperate to speak please please please

a question.

and then

..

...

....

.....

screaming running loudloudloud water like thunder in his ears dragging him down

down

down

down

blood in his mouth mixing with salty sea the taste of it like pennies filling his lungs he screams screams screams but nobody can hear

(everyone else is screaming too)

slam! vision dark ears ringing he feels the tear of his clothes his skin and he still can’t breathe but why why why does this feel so familiar?

the shrieks the roar the swell of the water all fade away there is nothing but the warm touch of the sun on his face and the ringing in his ears (so l o u d)

and

darkness.

pain pain pain rising and falling like the gasping tide in out in out

sound. movement. voices. pain. always pain. cold seeping into his bones turning slowly to warmth with yelling yelling so much yelling and then a voice

a face? yes. he knows that face.

a promise.

gentle words. mumbling. coughing. warm air warm tears warm hand on his. lips moving desperate to speak please please please

a question.

and then

..

...

....

.....

screaming running loudloudloud water like thunder in his ears dragging him down

down

down

d

    o

        w

            n

                no.

(he has been here before.)

blood in his mouth- no! -mixing with salty sea the taste of it like pennies filling his lungs- no!-he screams screams screams but nobody can hear

(everyone else is screaming too but not him not now not anymore)

slam! vision dark ears ringing he feels the tear of his clothes his skin and he still can’t breathe

the shrieks the roar the swell of the water all fade away there is nothing but the warm touch of the sun on his face and the ringing in his ears (so l o u d)

and

darkness.

pain pain pain rising and falling like the gasping tide in out in out stop this stop this stop!

sound. movement. voices. pain. always pain. cold seeping into his bones turning slowly to warmth with yelling yelling so much yelling and then a voice

a face. a face. a face. a face. a face.

a promise.

gentle words. mumbling. coughing. warm air warm tears warm hand on his. lips moving desperate to speak please please please

a question.

and then-

a question. yes.

and then-

but what? what question? what promise?

and-

he needed to remember needed to remember

needed

to

r e m e m b e r-

..

...

....

.....

Quiet.

He remembered the quiet.

Not the tsunami- that had been a blaring wall of sound, screaming towards him as if there had been a freight train approaching, as if the world had been splitting in two. And not before either. There were snatches of quiet then, the hushed silence before the storm, of people too tense to dare rustle the air with their breathing, but there had always been an undercurrent of noise. Stampeding footfalls, distant shouting, the low sigh of the receding seas as it was sucked away from the lip of the beach.

No. The quiet came after.

A deep, deadly silence. The vast emptiness of the ocean when you’re submerged far beneath. There had been noise in the after, he was sure. Shouting, perhaps. He might have even said something. But it was nothing more than a tuneless lullaby to his ears, lulling him to sleep.

Only one thing had reached through the quiet. One sound. One voice.

(“I’m right here, Seth. I won’t leave.”)

(A promise.)

There was nothing now. Not just silence. There was the absence of the possibility of sound. There was no darkness either, just the absence of sight. Everything was simply- Not.

But he could feel. There was something tugging at him, a fine thread stretching forth into the nothing. He reached for it with his hands (not hands), felt it from his chest (not chest). It felt warm. It felt like home.

But grasping at it was like trying to capture mist between his fingertips. It floated away from his consciousness as he felt the creeping tendrils of memory slide insidiously back around him, even as he tried to hold on. There was sound again, all around him a distant hum, the crackle of a broken record as it played over and over and over and over and over- What was it? It was not from this place. Not from the nothing. It was from the before. From the pain. He could almost feel the saltwater on his tongue, the taste of fear. He could feel it-

screaming running loudloudloud-

Coming-

water like thunder in his ears dragging him down-

Back-

No.

He knew, as much as he could know anything, that he couldn’t let himself go back there. It was hard, harder than anything he’d ever done before, but the thread wouldn’t let him. He held fast. The tugging was getting stronger, more urgent, as it solidified slowly in his grasp. It was trying to remind him of something.

(A promise, and then-)

The water was lapping at his ankles (not ankles). He could feel its anxious pull- it was hungry.

(the ocean is calling you can you hear it?)

The ocean wanted him, but he wanted the thread. He wanted to know what it was. He wanted to feel that warmth again. He needed- he needed to know what came next.

(it wasn’t supposed to end like this)

A promise, he remembered. And then- a question, falling from his lips.

(“Lyor....are-are you....?”)

A voice. A promise. A question.

He needed the answer.

He pulled the thread.

..

...

....

.....

Seth opened his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what was happening to Seth? And where is he now? I’m sure y’all can figure it out....


	4. Hello Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amazingly, I’ve actually managed to get this chapter done (mostly) on time. Enjoy!

For a good thirty seconds, the world was nothing more than a disorienting haze of colour, as if Seth had forgotten what it meant to see. He felt as though he'd been trapped in a dark room for a year and had just stepped out into the sun, blinking furiously against its blinding light. As the blur of colours smoothed out into recognisable shapes, however, Seth realised that there was barely any light at all. He was bathed in near complete darkness, with only the faintest sliver of pale morning sun bleeding through the curtains, cracked open a fraction to reveal a window to his right.

Where the hell was he? The first thing that struck Seth was that he was standing- why was he standing?- at the foot of a bed, and as he dazedly peered through the semi-darkness around him, details began to jump out at him. A desk tucked in beside a wardrobe to his left, a chest of drawers behind him, mahogany floorboards under his feet. There was a bedside table as well, where a phone lay charging beside a pair of oddly familiar glasses.

Bedroom, his mind supplied. He was in a bedroom. But that only answered half his question- whose bedroom was this? And how did he get there? Seth's head still felt like it was stuffed full of cotton wool, and his memories were a disjointed mess, but he was pretty sure he'd never been in this room before. He fished back in his mind, trying to fit together the jigsaw puzzle that was the past. He'd been in Taurasi with Lyor. They'd been sent to convince the governor not to secede from the American colonies. He'd left Lyor at the hotel, gone out to get a coffee, and then....and then.....

Seth felt a shudder race down his spine. The tsunami. It was like a dam had burst, and the memories rushed forward in a sudden flood. The guy in front of him in the coffeeshop line had warned everyone about the tsunami, and they'd all gotten onto the roof. But there were still people trying to get up the stairs- elderly people, and people who'd come in from the streets and didn't know where to go- so Seth had gone downstairs to help. And then the wave had hit. Seth couldn't remember specifics, only the terror that had clawed at his insides as he was swept away. He recalled, vaguely, something slamming into him- a car, maybe?- and the blooming pain as something tore at his stomach. He was pretty sure he passed out after that, because the only other thing he could remember was waking up...somewhere else. Somewhere warm and dry. And someone had been there with him.

No, Seth remembered. Not just someone. Lyor.

Maybe he'd been brought here, but that sure as hell didn't explain the state Seth was in-or rather, the lack of it. He couldn't be sure, but he was pretty confident his injuries had been severe. The pain had been, at any rate. But looking down at himself now, Seth couldn't make out a scratch. Even his clothes looked exactly as he remembered from before the wave had hit- not even a stain. The memory of the agony he'd been in was fresh in his mind- the throbbing of his head, his arm, his...everything- but that was missing too. Seth felt completely fine.

Well, that wasn't completely true. There wasn't any pain, but Seth still didn't feel quite right. He couldn't put his finger on what it was- a numbness of sorts. Maybe he'd been drugged up. That didn't explain how his clothes were in such perfect condition, but it certainly explained the lack of pain, and the gap in his memory. Another insidious possibility slithered into his mind, and Seth gulped- maybe more time had passed than he thought. Maybe he had amnesia. That could happen, right? A knock on the head, and suddenly he couldn't form new memories. Anterograde amnesia, he thought it was called.

Shit, he thought. Shit, shit, shit. Could it have been months? Years?

Seth tried to clamp down on his panic. Okay, he just had to find someone who knew what was going on, and they could explain everything. He was about to make for the door, when a shifting out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There was someone in the bed- Seth had been so caught up in his own confusion that he hadn't even noticed. Feeling more than a little stupid, he crept closer, trying to see the figure better. It was a man, curled up on his side, with a mess of brown curls that lay limp against his pale forehead. The man fitfully rolled onto his back, and with a jolt, Seth realised the man was Lyor.

“Oh thank god." The exclamation burst from his mouth without warning as a swell of relief filled Seth's chest. Finally, something familiar. He'd never been so happy to see Lyor in his life. Seth didn't want to question why exactly he was in Lyor's bedroom, but at least he would know exactly what was going on. Lyor, he was sure, would have some answers.

"Lyor?" Seth called, and the man grumbled as he blinked slowly into wakefulness, rubbing blearily at his eyes. Lyor squinted into the dim light of his room, trying to focus on what was in front of him. There were a few seconds of blank confusion, then a glint of recognition, and then, like a switch had been flicked, his entire body went rigid, save for a sharp intake of breath. In a movement so fast his hand was nothing more than a blur, Lyor snatched his glasses from the bedside table and jammed them on with enough force to be painful. He said nothing, just blinked rapidly as his eyes swept up and down Seth's form.

"Lyor, hey," Seth said, a grin breaking across his face. "Man, am I glad to see you."

Lyor didn't say a word. It was uncanny, seeing him so silent, and so still. There was only the movement of his fingers as they slowly balled up fistfuls of his thin blanket, and the uneasy rise and fall of his chest as he sucked in one measured breath, then another.

Seth’s grin faltered a little as Lyor continued to gape at him, and the itch of worry got stronger. “Dude, what’s going on? Where are we? All I remember was the tsunami, a-and then I woke up with....with you, somewhere. I-I know I got pretty banged up, but I’m fine now, so....” his rambling trailed off into nothing as Lyor showed no sign of understanding, just pure shock, and- was that fear? Seth shifted uncomfortably underneath the unrelenting stare. “Hey, are you okay, man? What’s going on with you?”

“Nope,” Lyor deadpanned. He abruptly twisted around, and his glasses tumbled off as he buried his face in his pillow. He let out a muttered chant of “nope, nope, nope,” the words muffled and interrupted every few seconds by deliberatley deep breaths that made his frame shudder. Lyor’s head still shook against the pillow, wobbling like a bobble-head doll.

“Uh-“ Seth’s mouth dropped open. Alarm bells were blaring in his head, and it was getting harder to keep from falling into panic. Something was seriously wrong here. “What the hell are you doing? You’re starting to freak me out.” Lyor gave a nearly imperceptible flinch at the sound of his voice, and Seth took an uncertain step forward.

“Okay, hey, hey hey,” Seth soothed, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. In all the months they’ve worked together, Seth had never seen Lyor behave anywhere close to this, and he was honestly at a loss. It was becoming clear that how he’d gotten to this room was the least of his problems. “Lyor, it’s only me, okay? It’s alright.” He crept steadily closer, reaching out a cautious hand in front of him as if he was approaching a cornered animal.

As slowly as he dared, Seth extended his hand closer and closer to Lyor’s hunched form. “It’s alright,” he said again, and grasped Lyor’s shoulder.

His fingers passed straight through.

Seth blinked. Robotically, he tried to grab at Lyor again, but just like before, his hand slid seamlessly through, a shimmering mirage. His mind sluggishly tried to process the sight before him, but the pieces weren’t slotting together. There was his hand, inside a man’s shoulder.

In a fit of desperation, Seth swung his arm at the metal headboard of the bed. He instinctively braced for the impact; the bruising pain of flesh against metal, but his arm misted through without the slightest tingle.

“What the fuck,” he breathed, ogling his trembling hands, turning them over and over. They were his, alright, with the same callouses and tiny scattered scars on his fingers, but right now they seemed utterly alien. “What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck-“

Christ, he really did have a brain injury. Was this all a hallucination? Or some messed up coma dream? Please, please god, let this be a dream. He stumbled away from the bed, Lyor forgotten as he tried to steer himself out of a panic attack. His shoulders heaved as he tried to calm his breathing-

Breathing...

With the dark, sinking feeling of unutterable horror, Seth realised what had been feeling off. His chest was rising and falling in the unconscious actions of breathing, but there was no air passing through. It was all a masquerade. Seth gulped desperately at the air, but he remained hollow.

He slowly halted the rise and fall of his chest, the motion that he’d been making without even thinking about it. He felt exactly the same.

A groan clawed its way out of Seth’s throat, coming up from somewhere deep and dark within him. He doubled over, grasping desperately at his knees. He felt real, he felt alive, but- but-

_He had felt the world slipping away from him, felt the pain slowly fading into nothing more than a memory as darkness threatened to take over his vision. He’d only had time to utter half a choked out sentence before-_

Seth remembered now. God, he remembered it so vividly-

_Then there had been nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Only the never ending swirl of memories, a constant replay of those last moments. He’d broken free, but he’d only been thought without form, because he was- he was-_

“-Dead.” The word slipped unbidden from Seth’s lips. “I’m dead, aren’t I?”

He had been in the tsunami, he had been injured. And he hadn’t survived. He dropped his face into his hands, clawing viciously at his skin, tearing at tufts of hair, trying to feel something. He was desperate for pain. But pain was a privilege of the living.

Apparently, fear wasn’t. There was a a keening whine leaking from him, like a kettle coming to boil, a ringing death-whistle. It was all the sound he could make- he had forgotten how to scream. This couldn't be happening, this wasn't possible. This was just some fucked up nightmare. In a few seconds, Seth was going to wake up in a hospital, or in a plane on the way back to America, or in his own bed, and he'd be able to laugh this all off because he was fine, he was fine, he was fine...

"Wake up," he ordered himself. "Just wake up." Everything stayed exactly as it was, and Seth groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut as he shook his head violently. Nothing was working. He had to try something more drastic. Drawing his hand back, Seth slapped himself hard against the cheek, again and again- it didn't hurt at all. "Come on," he screamed. "Wake up! Wake the fuck up!" Seth wrenched his eyes open, lifting his gaze with nauseous dread as he saw that he was still in that damn bedroom. The only thing that had changed was Lyor. The other man was no longer curled in around his pillows, but instead sitting cross legged on the bed, eyeing him with a quiet, resigned horror.

“Help me,” Seth rasped, though he had no idea what Lyor could possibly do for him now. “Please, fuck- Lyor, help me-“

“What is this?”

The whisper cut through Seth’s blind panic, left him reeling. He gaped, fish-mouthed, at Lyor as the man swallowed roughly.

“....What is- wh- what?” Seth stuttered out. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lyor said, gesturing limply at Seth’s still shuddering form, “What is this? Why is this happening now?”

Seth gaped confusedly, Lyor's words still taking a few painful seconds to filter through. “How the fuck would I know?” he snarled. “I don't- I don't know what the hell is going on- I-”

“I would get it right after you died, maybe,” Lyor murmured, pressed a white knuckled fist against his temple, and Seth’s heart- or what should have been his heart- seized. There was his confirmation. It sounded so much worse when someone else said it. He was dead. Dead, buried, gone.

Lyor didn’t seem to notice the way Seth’s face had crumpled. He didn’t seem as though he was talking to Seth at all, more like he was speaking his thoughts aloud to himself. “But after all this time? This doesn’t make any sense...”

“W-wait-“ Seth said. "After all this time? What do you mean?" His words fell on deaf ears.

“How long has it been?” Lyor didn’t seem to be listening at all anymore, staring blankly at Seth as though gazing straight through him. He tentatively probed the back of his head.

“Do I have a concussion?”

Seth tried again. "Lyor-"

Lyor's face was rapidly darkening as he pulled his hand back, starting instead to experimentally run his tongue over his lips and gums. “Please," he groaned, "Tell me I’ve been drugged.”

White-hot frustration began to bleed into Seth's panic, and his wire thin patience snapped. “Goddamnit, would you stop ignoring me!”

Lyor's head snapped to face him head on, but his eyes were burning. Seth felt himself recoil from the unexpected fury he saw there. “Well, would you stop with the dramatics?” Lyor hissed back.

“...the dramatics?” Seth echoed numbly. He didn’t have the first clue of how to respond to that. Everything felt off-kilter, like the world was crumbling underneath his feet, and somehow he’d gotten himself trapped in an argument with Lyor. This had to be some sick cosmic joke. “You expect me to be calm? How the hell am I supposed to be goddamn calm? I’m-“ his voice wavered dangerously, and he tried to take a steadying breath- but stopped short when he remembered the stale hollowness of his lungs. A wave of nausea rolled through him, but Seth struggled on. “I-I’m dead, apparently. I....” he trailed off with a helpless half-sob, burying his face in his hands. “God, this can’t...this can’t be happening.”

“And there you go again,” Lyor said, and Seth peered at him through the gaps between his fingers. Lyor had an ugly scowl marring his features as he whined mockingly. “Oh, I’m dead. Oh, how long has it been? I know all this, okay? Spare me the rerun.”

Seth shook his head in numb disbelief, still trying to quench the quivering in his limbs. His body might be dead, but it still had the muscle-memory of terror deeply ingrained. “...How are you not freaking out more about this?” he demanded. It seemed utterly unfair that Lyor could be so cavalier about being faced with...a ghost? Is that what he was?

Seth batted the thought away- he had to focus on one thing at a time. He swallowed, fishing for some semblance of composure. He needed to keep it together if he wanted to get anywhere. He continued unsteadily. “If you know so much, how about you fill me in, because I-I...I have no idea what’s going on, okay? I just want to know what’s going on.” His voice broke. “Please.”

Lyor stared at him for a long moment, face still dark with antagonism, before he dropped his gaze with a bitter sigh, flopping back down against his pillows. He couldn’t disguise the unsteady set of his jaw even as he tried to clench it defiantly, or the way he pulled the blankets up to his chin defensively like a desperate attempt at a shield. He looked like a child trying to hide from the monster in the closet.

“I’m insane,” Lyor whispered, and he tightened his grip on the blankets. “I’m officially insane.”

For what felt like the millionth time in the last ten minutes, Seth felt thrown off-balance. Lyor’s shift from terror to seething anger, and now to this quivering vulnerability was enough to make his head spin, and Seth didn’t have much of a blueprint to work with. The Lyor that he knew had been a bit difficult, and definitely chaotic, but fairly benign once you cut through the bluntness and the casual insults. He’d certainly never been this volatile. Emotions were a thing Lyor had always kept close to his chest, frustratingly so, but now they were pouring out of him like magma.

He even looked different. Lyor had always been lean, but now he looked positively sickly, with the dramatic jut of his ribs visible even under his shirt and the blanket that covered him, and his cheeks gaunt and hollowed. His eyes, too, seemed sunken, with bags under his eyes casting shadows so long it was like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

This Lyor, the one cowering in his bed, seemed to Seth like a complete stranger.

He felt paralysed. He wanted- he needed- to reach through to Lyor, to finally get some answers, but he didn’t know how to approach this foreign creature, one that looked ready to lash out at a moment’s notice, fangs bared. Seth didn’t think he could handle rejection at this moment, teetering on the edge as he was. But, he thought morosely, what did he have to lose?

He shuffled forward, feet making no sound against the floorboards, but he could barely get a squeak out of his mouth before Lyor hissed out an aggravated sigh. “This is ridiculous.” He flung the sheets off and leapt out of bed, suddenly a whirlwind of movement.

“This is perfect- Penfold’s going to have a field day with this,” he muttered as he stumbled over to his bedroom door. Seth had to spring out of the way at the last second- though, he realised after a second, he probably didn’t need to- and the movement drew Lyor’s fiery glare on him. “How is this going to go down with the President?” Lyor hissed venomously, and Seth shrunk back. “You think I’m still going to have a job if he finds out I’m having hallucinations?”

Oh.

“You...think I’m a hallucination?” Seth asked, realising even as he said it that of course- of course Lyor thought that. It’s what any rational person would think, and Lyor was as rational as they came.

Seth wanted to scream. He could only manage a murmur. “I’m not.”

Lyor just scoffed, turning away to stalk towards the open doorway. Seth could feel his throat closing up as despair threatened to overwhelm him- he remembered, very suddenly, what drowning had felt like. It had felt like this. He was drowning now.

“I’m right here,” he breathed. “I’m real.”

Lyor, even with his back towards Seth, radiated tension. His voice was like broken glass when he spoke.

“No. You’re not.”

Lyor disappeared through the doorway. Seth didn’t bother following. What was the point? Lyor didn’t even believe he was really there. Seth wrapped his arms around himself, desperate for the only solid touch left to him- he was only real to himself.

In a great wave, just like the one that had put him in this situation, Seth felt the weight of reality crash into him. He was dead. He’d been meaning to find the time to see his parents again- but he’d never be able to now, because he was dead.

He’d never be able to hug his brother again, because he was dead.

He wouldn’t be there to announce the President’s re-election, if it ever happened, because he was dead.

He’d never become an uncle.

He’d never meet the love of his life.

He’d never get married.

He’d never get to be a dad, never get to hold a piece of himself in his arms.

Because he was dead.

A dry, rattling sob forced its way out of Seth’s chest, catching in his throat and gasping away into nothing as he collapsed onto his knees. His body kept twitching violently as it tried to force out tears that couldn’t come- it was like his body was trying to cry but had forgotten how. Before, panic had swept away everything else, but now there was only this crushing weight pressing down on Seth’s chest, nearly causing him to sink through the floor.

The memories pressed relentlessly against Seth’s consciousness, and he didn’t have the strength to fight them off. They flooded in, seething, pulling him under, away from the real world and back into that never ending nightmare. There was nothing left now, only his death, again, and again, and again.

Seth didn’t know how long he stayed collapsed like that, only stirring when he heard the pad of Lyor’s feet as he approached the bedroom. Seth could have believed he’d been like that for days, if not for the telltale dampness of Lyor’s hair that told him that he’d only been like that for as long as it took Lyor to shower. Even so, Seth felt as though the time had stretched on far longer than it should have- Lyor must have taken an especially long shower.

The water seemed to have washed off all Lyor’s vulnerability, and he now radiated cool impassiveness. Closer to the Lyor that Seth remembered, but still not quite right- too cold, too much like the cutting edge of a blade. There was a hardness in his eyes Seth had never seen before, and it froze him to his core as it fell on him, with only the barest flicker of apprehension distorting the blank dismissal in Lyor’s eyes.

“You’re still here, then?” Lyor threw the words at him almost as an afterthought, and Seth said nothing in reply, staring balefully up from the huddled ball he was in on the floor. Honestly, he was tempted to sink back into the well of misery he’d been trapped in for god knows how long instead of dealing with Lyor- the feelings felt too overwhelming for Seth to fight off any longer. But he knew he had to. If this was really his situation- and, god, he was still praying he was going to wake up any second- then he was going to have to find some way to break through to Lyor.

“Okay, look,” Seth said quietly. “I get that this might seem...completely out of this world to you, a-and rationalising this and assuming I’m a hallucination probably makes the most sense to you right now, but Lyor, you have to believe me- I am real.”

Lyor didn’t even look at him.

Seth averted his eyes as Lyor began to get changed, running through anything he could possibly say to make his case. Lyor was a creature of logic, Seth knew. He needed to give him the facts.

“I remember it now,” he said, “I remember dying-“

Lyor fumbled slightly with the knot of his tie-

“-and then there was this place. There was nothing- I was nothing. It was...” Seth frowned- he’d never been much of a believer in the afterlife, but his soul had certainly ended up somewhere. “I don’t know- purgatory, maybe? And then I...woke up, I guess. Here.”

Lyor still wasn’t looking at him, but there was something about the intensity of his focus that let Seth know he was listening to every word.

“So,” he concluded, “...I’m a ghost.”

With one last sharp tug at his tie, Lyor finally turned to face him.

“A ghost,” he deadpanned, and Seth nodded, more firmly than he felt. Lyor chuckled darkly. “Alright then. Prove it.”

And here came the hard part. Seth clambered to his feet, trying to give off even the slightest air of confidence. “Uh, yeah, alright, sure. Prove it, easy.” Seth clapped his hands together and did an awkward half turn, peering around the room, hoping for inspiration to spring out at him. Nothing did. Lyor raised an expectant eyebrow, and Seth shrugged helplessly.

“I-I don’t know how.”

Another eye roll. “Come on, Seth,” Lyor sneered, “I’ve seen Paranormal Activity, it’s not difficult. Throw some furniture around, make the lights flicker, write bloody messages on the mirror.” He spread his arms wide in invitation. “Haunt me.”

Seth remembered with a lurch the way his hand had sliced unresistingly through the bed frame. “I don’t think I can,” he explained. “Not in that way. I can’t...touch things.”

Lyor looked unimpressed, so to prove his point, Seth tried to clap a hand to the man’s shoulder again. Like expected, his fingers slid through like a hot knife through butter. Lyor twitched at the contact. He recovered in half a second, but Seth’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Lyor had a cruel smile on his face. “You can’t even touch me.”

Seth wasn’t deterred. “You shivered,” he accused him. “When I touched you, you felt something, didn’t you?”

“The room is cold.”

Seth scowled, and without a moment’s warning, punched his arm straight through Lyor’s chest and held it there. This time Lyor couldn’t disguise the violent shudder that ran through him as he gazed down at the arm that penetrated his flesh. Seth watched him expectantly, but Lyor simply took a step back, letting Seth’s arm slide out of him.

“I’m uncomfortable with the image of someone putting their hand through my chest, hallucination or not.” Lyor said.

Seth dropped his arm with a hiss. “You’re goddamn impossible,” he growled, turning away in frazzled frustration. Out of all the people he could have first appeared to, why did it have to be the most stubbornly skeptical man on the planet? Seth ran a hand over his chin as he thought. “Maybe...maybe that isn’t how ghosts work. Maybe I’m not able to interact with the world, y’know? Completely incorporeal.”

Lyor scoffed. “Likely story.”

Seth had barely had the patience for Lyor’s sarcasm when he was alive. Dying, it seemed, had stripped away his tolerance entirely. “How would you know? Seen many ghosts, have you?”

“No,” Lyor bit out. “Because ghosts are not real. They’re the deluded imaginings of the lonely and frail-minded.”

“Which one are you, then?”

Seth was getting used to Lyor’s venomous scowls by now, and he glared right back. Incredibly, Lyor was the one to break first, and he sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I’m arguing with my own imagination,” he muttered with a shake of his head. He turned away, striding to his bedside table to snatch up his phone, not giving Seth a backwards glance. He was, Seth realised with a jolt of panic, giving up.

He watched helplessly as Lyor dialled a number and started speaking, urgency lacing every word.

“I need to book an appointment with Dr Penfold.....Yes, I know I’ve already scheduled one for next Tuesday. I’m saying I need to-....As soon as possible......Tomorrow? Uh, yes, tomorrow works perfectly. Thank you.” Lyor hung up with a defeated sigh, features clouded as he fiddled with his phone.

“That your therapist?” Seth asked cautiously. It was hard to believe that Lyor would ever seek professional help, but apparently even he wouldn’t ignore ‘hallucinations.’ But from that phone conversation, it seemed like Lyor had already been going to therapy. Just what exactly had been going on since he left?

Lyor twitched. “Are the redundant questions going to to be a continuous part of this experience?” he asked. “Can’t you just stare at me in silence?”

“The fact that I don’t know every single thought that runs through your brain is surely a hint that I’m not an extension of your own consciousness, don’t you think?” Seth pointed out.

“Maybe,” Lyor murmured after a beat of silence, and Seth felt a balloon of hope swell inside him. Lyor levelled him with a hard stare. “Or maybe you’re just a particularly annoying hallucination. It’s certainly keeping with how you were in real life.”

The balloon burst. “Fuck you.”

“Shit.”

“What now?” Seth snapped. But Lyor wasn’t even looking at him, eyes fixed on his phone screen. Seth edged forward to look for himself, and he hissed in a breath when he saw the time.

“You’re going to be late.” Seth felt the ghost of sympathetic panic as he remembered the adrenaline rush that came any time he realised he was running late to get to work. It didn’t pay to be unpunctual at the White House. But even as he had that absentminded thought, an idea sprung up in the forefront of Seth’s mind. Lyor might not be able to feel him, but he sure as hell could see him, and that meant that others would be able to as well. Lyor was going to the White House. Emily would be there, and Aaron, and Kendra, and the President. A whole building full of people who would be more willing to listen to reason. Lyor could be as skeptical as he liked- Seth didn’t need him. Lyor was already on the move, patting down his pockets as he sped out of the room, Seth following close behind, thrumming with excited energy. The other man was letting loose a stream of agitated muttering as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Now I’ll have to deal with Aaron as well.” he groaned under his breath, and Seth frowned in confusion. As National Security Advisor, Aaron had no reason to give Lyor a hard time for being late, unless....

“Aaron? Why is he filling in for Emily?” But Lyor didn’t answer.

In an instant, they were out the door, and Seth blinked in the dazzling sunlight. All around him stretched out the familiar concrete labyrinth that was D.C, so different to the sunburnt beaches of Taurasi. For Seth it felt like it was only yesterday that he’d left, but he still felt that ache in his chest, the relief of returning to familiarity after a long trip away. It was a small comfort that even if everything else had seemed to change, this city was the same as it always was. God, he was glad to be home.

He wanted to stand still for a moment and just drink it all in, but Lyor wasn’t slowing down, already halfway down the street. Seth hurried to catch up, feeling a spring in his step as another thought occurred to him. They were going to a train station, one that would be crawling with people. All Seth needed to do was show Lyor that other people, even strangers, could see him. That would be irrefutable evidence. Lyor would have to be an idiot to not be convinced, and Lyor was no idiot.

Seth felt a beam of hope light up within him as they walked through the entrance of the train station, spotting the swarm of commuters making their way to work. “Hey, Lyor,” he called, and noted the telltale shift of the head that indicated that Lyor had heard him. “You want proof? Watch this.” Seth strode up to the first person he saw- a young woman with severe lipstick and an even more severe frown, who was glaring up at the train timetables.

“Hey, excuse me, miss?” Seth asked, plastering on his friendliest smile.

The woman said nothing.

Seth bit his lip, fighting down the rising panic. Maybe she was just ignoring him. He stepped between her and the timetable board, directly in her field of vision. She didn’t even blink, her eyes roaming from side to side as if she were still reading the schedule. As if she could see right through him. Seth’s blood ran cold. Ahead of him, Lyor shook his head in exasperation before continuing through the crowd.

Seth stood rooted to the spot, watching numbly as the woman walked away completely unperturbed. A pair of schoolboys approached, and before Seth could think to move, they walked straight through him. They didn’t take any notice of Seth’s squawk of protest, only pulling their blazers a little tighter around themselves as they continued on. It was lucky he was invisible, Seth distantly thought as he trudged straight through the crowd to catch up with Lyor, or else they could have had a mass panic on their hands.

Lyor clearly hadn’t waited for him, but Seth caught up easily enough, and he boarded the train beside him with leaden feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Seth caught sight of the amused smirk playing on Lyor’s lips. “That was proof, alright,” he muttered under his breath as the train pulled away from the station.

Seth didn’t reply.


	5. Shatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is like 2 weeks late. Alas, exams. A big apology to the....3 people who read this lmao
> 
> TW: slight ableist language

Lyor trained his eyes on the off-white stretch of carpet beneath his feet as he made his way through the West Wing. He caught sight of dozens of busy pairs of feet making their sure way through the corridor, a raging river of activity. He focused on them. He tried to, anyway.

Damn his untameable curiosity. Lyor’s treacherous eyes couldn’t help themselves, and they slowly ascended, lighting on the figure perpetually trailing beside him.

Lyor swallowed. Seth was still there.

The hallucination had been there from the second Lyor had woken up that morning, and he still hadn’t been able to shake it. Lyor had hoped against all hope that it had sprung from some early morning, sleep deprived haze in his mind- but no, Seth was still there every time he looked, like some twisted shadow.

Lyor had to admire the attention to detail that his, apparently insane, mind was able to cultivate. Seth was exactly the same as Lyor remembered him from when he was alive, physically speaking. Same stride, same gestures, same inflections in his voice. All the words spoken, Lyor could believe they had come from Seth’s own mouth. But this image wasn’t a perfectly preserved time capsule of the past. The real Seth had always had an edge of steely grit to him, even when his natural, free flowing optimism had dried up. He’d always been determined to get through whatever was thrown at him. He’d been a fighter. It was something Lyor had always admired.

Whatever fight was in this version of Seth, though, had been sucked out from the moment they’d stepped into that train station. Now, shuffling and dead eyed, this hallucination was nothing more than a walking husk. Lyor couldn’t quite bear to look at it for too long.

Slowly, slowly, Lyor dared to glance at it again. This time, Seth noticed and caught his eye. No glimmer of frustration or defiant anger, or even the wide, white rimmed animal panic of sheer terror. Lyor could almost pretend to believe his hallucination’s story about being a ghost for a second- those eyes were haunted.

Lyor arched a frosty eyebrow. Seth dropped his gaze, defeated.

At least Seth wasn’t talking anymore. It made it easier for Lyor ignore him, to pretend, even for a few scant seconds, that he wasn’t losing his mind. Because, really, what else could be happening here? Either he had some sort of undiagnosed brain injury, or a tumour perhaps, that was causing vivid hallucinations- possible, but unlikely. Or- and this, regretfully, seemed far more likely- he was undergoing a psychotic break.

Neither option was ideal. Lyor did not have the time for a psychotic breakdown. The best he could hope for was that Penfold would be able to prescribe him some medication that would actually help, and he could just sweep this quietly under the rug. Nobody had to know. Nobody _could_ know. Crazies didn’t last long in the White House. Not that many politicians could be considered ‘sane,’ exactly, but most tended to run the way of stock standard personality disorders- politics was like a siren’s song for narcissists, after all. And the rest were one bad day away from shooting themselves in the head. But at least their grip on the world around them was, relatively speaking, sound. Not so with hallucinations. This was a whole new level of-

A choked off gasp from beside him startled his thoughts into silence- Lyor didn’t have to look to know that it was Seth making the noise. The sudden end of the hallucination’s bout of silence was bitterly disappointing, and Lyor’s discontent only grew as he spied Aaron making his way towards him.

“Aaron,” Seth gasped out, voice thick. “Aaron. Aaron....”

Aaron had said something as he’d fallen into step beside Lyor- something about being late?- but Lyor hadn’t heard it over the blubbering filling his ears. He gave a noncommittal grunt in response. Hopefully that would be answer enough, as rude as it was. Lyor was unfriendly often enough for it to be unworthy of note, but inattentiveness wasn’t something he was known for, and that would raise Aaron’s suspicion that something was wrong.

Aaron scowled. “You missed the briefing. Carson had to cover for you.”

So, yes, Aaron was annoyed about Lyor being late. Irritating, but not overly surprising. Beside Aaron, Seth hovered with wide, mournful eyes. Lyor carefully kept his gaze on Aaron, and Aaron only.

“Train was delayed,” he said as they walked. It was a careless excuse, he knew, and judging by Aaron’s expression, he wasn’t buying it. His narrowed eyes fixed on Lyor’s hair- he’d forgotten to gel it down, and it was now a mess of flyaway curls instead of its usual neat, slicked back look. Lyor resisted the urge to try and flatten it. He hated how much younger his natural hair made him look.

“If you’re going to lie to me, at least make it believable.” Lyor remained stubbornly silent, and Aaron just sighed. “Don’t forget to set your alarm next time, okay?”

Lyor smiled thinly- he’d let Aaron think what he wanted to think. It was better than the truth.

He was itching to get away, but as Aaron veered into his office, the sharp jerk of his head forced Lyor to drag his feet in pursuit. Aaron sat down at his desk. Behind him, Seth loomed, eyes saucer-wide as if he were trying to drink everything in.

Aaron pushed a piece of paper across the table. “I got started on the shortlist for Press Secretary.” he explained.

Seth flinched. Lyor ignored the hallucination, taking the page and scanning it dubiously. Carson, Wallace, Alvarez, Danson... Lyor was pleasantly surprised. All of them were decent enough choices.

“...Yeah.” Lyor nodded, pushing the list back. “These actually look good.”

Faint surprise flickered across Aaron’s face, but he just said, “I’ll run them by the President.”

“Good.” Lyor agreed. He leaned back in the chair. “Also, I reached out to Schuler and Davis yesterday. They both seem interested, but I think we should start vetting Davis.”

Aaron’s brow creased. “I think Schuler’s a better call. He looks good on paper.”

Lyor had met Keith Schuler before on a campaign in Atlanta, five or so years ago. Even then, he’d been a tired excuse for a politician. He always achieved what he set his mind to, to his credit, but his achievements were always the definition of uninspired. And when they weren’t dull, they were utterly imbecilic. Not that he’d let anyone tell him that- though Lyor tried, loudly and vehemently. Lyor could only stand being in his company for an hour before wanting to smash the man’s head in with a bat.

“He’s cookie-cutter,” Lyor said instead. “I’ve worked with Davis before- she’s sharp, she’s got the right ideas.”

Aaron frowned in thought. “I’ll take cookie-cutter at this point. We don’t need someone to shake things up, we need someone to keep things afloat.”

“He’s an idiot,” Lyor tried again.

“You think everyone’s an idiot,” Aaron huffed, massaging his temples.

Lyor opened his mouth with a barbed retort on the tip of his tongue, but was caught off guard when Seth, with barely a whisper, spoke. “You should pick Schuler.”

Lyor blinked, surprised that Seth was talking again, but more affronted than anything that his own hallucination was disagreeing with him. It made sense, he supposed- he and Seth had always been at odds- but Lyor still bristled. Especially because he couldn’t argue back; not with his own mind, and not when Aaron was sitting right there.

“Look, you’re the one who’s insisting that we get a new Chief of Staff as soon as possible,” Aaron said sharply. “Clearly you have some personal issue with the guy, but the fact is that Schuler has more experience.”

Seth nodded along. “Stability,” He chimed in tiredly. “That’s what we need.” His face twisted up. “What you need.”

Lyor couldn’t help but wonder if this was his subconscious trying to tell him something. He chose to ignore it anyway.

“Emily,” he pointed out, “didn’t have much experience when she was appointed-“ he cut himself off with a humourless chuckle. Out of all the examples he could have picked, how had he forgotten himself enough to choose that one?

“But look how that turned out.” he finished quietly. Across from him, Aaron ran a hand across his shadowed face. An uneasy silence settled between them. Emily had been silently acknowledged as a forbidden topic of conversation outside of what was necessary, and Lyor, as much as he enjoyed riling up Aaron, hadn’t the heart to breach that. He’d never particularly wanted to discuss it either.

Aaron shifted, resting loosely clasped hands on the desk. “Do you ever think we should have seen this coming?” he asked quietly, looking up at Lyor. Aaron looked a decade older than he was, as he had constantly seemed in the last few months, but there was something different about him. The guardedness that he usually put up around Lyor was gone, as was the irritation from a few seconds ago- the look on his face was completely open.

With all the simmering hostility that had been brewing between them, this felt like an olive branch. After a few seconds hesitation, Lyor took it.

“I think...” Lyor began, mind racing through everything he knew about Emily, all the memories he had of his old friend. “I think Emily has always been good at tricking herself into believing she’s got things under control, even when she’s in completely over her head. She got so good at it that she fooled all of us as well.”

Aaron was silent. His eyes were fixed on a sugar holder he had on his desk that Lyor had never bothered to ask about. It seemed to mean something to him.

“The President didn’t see it,” Lyor continued after a moment. “Neither did Seth.” His hallucination shook his head at that, eyes narrowed in apparent confusion. “If they weren’t able to, then nobody could have.”

“Yeah.” Aaron muttered forlornly, not meeting his gaze. Lyor didn’t know all the details, but he’d heard rumours about a history between Aaron and Emily. All of that history, and in the end, he hadn’t known her anywhere as well as he thought he did. Not as well as he needed to. The bitterness of it was heavy in Aaron’s voice.

Lyor thought about Emily, about the eight years that he’d known her, about the fact that she had probably been his only friend for a lot of that time. He knew the feeling.

He rapped the desk sharply, snapping Aaron out of his funk. “We’ll start vetting Schuler,” he announced. He’d usually put up more of a fight, but right now, Lyor was just so goddamn tired of it all- thinking about Chief of Staff, trying to hold himself together in front of Aaron, everything. And besides, apparently his subconscious believed Schuler was the better pick anyway, so that had to be good enough.

“Really?” The surprise returned to Aaron’s face, stronger than ever. Lyor couldn’t even muster a smirk. Confusing Aaron was usually a surefire way to cheer him up, but Lyor didn’t feel even a trace of joy.

“You’re right. Experience matters,” Lyor explained with a shrug. Aaron blinked, but nodded in silent thanks, and Lyor slipped out of his office. He could feel Aaron’s wondering eyes on his back as he went.

He knew he should be feeling, at the very least, some satisfaction on finally making some progress with finding a new Chief of Staff and Press Secretary, but Lyor just felt weighed down. His black mood only darkened when Seth’s voice floated up beside him.

“What were you talking about back there?”

Lyor’s eyes slipped closed for a fraction of a second as he grappled with his patience.

Seth wasn’t deterred. Some of his old fire was back in his eyes, and he pinned down Lyor with a ferocious glare as they walked. “Emily resigned? Or- was she fired? What the hell did she do?”

Lyor reflected, with a shred of dark amusement, that it was a good thing that Seth had died before finding out that his ex-girlfriend was likely guilty of treason. This imitation of him was being irritating enough with only half the facts. The real Seth would have been unbearable.

Seth threw himself in Lyor’s path, standing steadfastly in the way with his arms crossed like he thought he was the damn Secret Service. His face was harsh as stone.

“You need to tell me what’s going on. Now.”

“I don’t need to do anything for you,” Lyor hissed under his breath. He didn’t even break stride, instead choosing to march straight through Seth’s form. He felt the familiar chill race down his spine, and, god, he hated that this hallucination still had such an effect on him. He heard Seth’s growl of frustration from behind as he walked off, and then the talking started back up. Hearing about Emily seemed to have given this Seth a new lease of life, ironically enough.

“Pushing me aside isn’t gonna work forever, you know. I can make your life pretty fucking difficult- I have a lot of time on my hands now. All you have to do is answer a few simple questions, but no, you just have to be so- so _you_ about this, don’t you? Why the hell am I stuck with you, out of all people-“

“Would you shut up?”

The words exploded from him, too swift for him to control the volume, and they bounced off the walls. Heads swivelled like clockwork to face him, and a hush fell over a gaggle of junior staffers who’d been discussing something loudly a few paces down the hallway. Lyor made sure to shoot a fiery glare their way, and they scattered like ants, practically fleeing as he stalked past them. He’d never been more grateful for the reputation for having a hair trigger temper that he’d garnered over the last few months.

He kept a murderous scowl fixed on his face as he made his way back to his own office. People leapt out of the way like he was parting the waters. Even Tricia, who was coming out of his office as he approached, froze like a deer in headlights- she’d never been one to be intimidated by Lyor before now. Lyor slowed his pace slightly so that they didn’t have a collision similar to the day before, and Tricia tensed slightly at his approach. She simply ducked her head, muttering out a quick “Good morning, sir,” before creeping away.

Lyor entered his office, pausing in surprise when he registered that there was no mess on the floor. He’d meant to clean up the collapsed pile of paperwork the night before, but he hadn’t been bothered. Tricia must have just been picking it all back up. That reminded him that he owed his PA an apology. Now wasn’t the time though- with how he was feeling, he could only see himself making things worse.

Lyor switched on his computer, but his eyes wouldn’t stop lighting on Seth, scowling with crossed arms beside him. Hallucinations had no respect for personal space, apparently. It was utterly distracting.

There was work that needed to be done, Lyor knew. Phone calls that needed to be made, people that needed to be spoken to, statements that needed to be looked over.

Seth was _still there._

Lyor couldn’t stop himself from opening up his browser, nor his fingers from flying over the keyboard. He had an appointment with Penfold scheduled for tomorrow. He needed to be prepared.

_Schizophrenia symptoms_

“Oh, come on-“ Seth scoffed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “You’re not schizophrenic, Lyor.”

His mind’s instinct was probably right, Lyor thought as he scanned the symptom lists with a critical eye. He was experiencing hallucinations, obviously. And he could admit that there was an element of truth to some of these other symptoms- social isolation, agitation, compulsive behaviour, aggression, apathy. But plenty of those were just elements of his personality- avoiding social interaction didn’t count as a sign of mental illness if the people around you were, generally speaking, complete idiots. And as for the rest- the apathy, the anger- well... Even he could acknowledge that surviving a natural disaster and watching a friend die right in front of you didn’t exactly put one in a positive frame of mind.

And none of the other symptoms applied at all. He wasn’t delusional. He was the complete opposite actually. That was exactly why he was considering the possibility of mental illness over the idea that his dead friend had actually returned from beyond the grave to haunt him. Crazy people never knew that they were crazy, right?

Paranoia? No. Incoherent speech? No. Mental confusion? No, no, no. Not schizophrenia then. He should try something more general.

_Causes of visual and auditory hallucinations_

Lyor grimaced as countless pages of possible diagnoses loaded in front of his eyes. He read through them all. Schizophrenia, schizo-affective disorder, Parkinson’s, epilepsy, brain tumour. So many possibilities, and all of them grim.

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Alzheimer’s listed, and his mind instantly flashed to his mother, sitting in her nursing home, staring blankly at the wall and talking to the spectre of his 21-years-dead father. She had been 45 when she’d been diagnosed with early-onset dementia. Lyor was only 37, but the thought settled uncomfortably in his chest.

His mouse lingered over a page titled ‘ _The Relationship Between PTSD and Psychosis._ ’ His mouth felt suddenly very dry.

PTSD. Trauma.

It was no coincidence, Lyor was sure, that he wasn’t hallucinating his father, or Ronald Reagan, or a purple dragon smoking a pipe. This was about what happened in Taurasi. This was about Seth.

Sweat prickled on the back of his neck. He didn’t feel like he was in his air-conditioned office anymore. He could feel sticky, suffocating heat, the sun beating down on his back.

“I really don’t think you should be diagnosing yourself over the Internet, you know.” Seth griped, and out of the corner of his eye, Lyor saw the flash of a pink shirt. It was in pristine condition, the way Seth had been wearing it before they separated, but suddenly all Lyor could see in his mind’s eye was that same shirt smeared with dirt, bloodstained and nearly ripped in half, gaping open to reveal an oozing wound.

“You,” Lyor muttered, blinking rapidly, “are a figment of my imagination. You don’t get an opinion.” He had to remember that. Seth wasn’t real- none of what he was seeing, or hearing, or feeling was real. It was in the past. It was over.

“How many times am I going to have to say this before you believe me?” Seth snapped. “I’m real!”

Lyor spun his chair around to face Seth, felt his body rock from the force of it slamming into his desk. “No, I’ll tell you exactly what you are,” he snarled, not caring about volume, or what he must have looked like. “You’re the result of the misfiring chemical reactions in my- my sick brain, alright?

He barked out a hoarse laugh, raking his fingers through his hair and probably messing it up even more than it already was. “Penfold, the President, Kendra, they’re all right. There is something very, very wrong with me. And this- talking to you- it’s not going to help.” He was barely in control of his own voice, so wrapped up in trying to hold himself together. He yanked his tie loose, desperate for cool air against his neck, for air in his lungs. The heat- the unrelenting, unforgettable Taurasi heat- was getting unbearable.

“Lyor-“

“No,” Lyor spat. “You are not real, and I am finished with entertaining you. We’re done.”

“Lyor, don’t do this. Please.” Seth’s voice had lost its viciousness, and was now low and urgent- desperate, pleading. Lyor couldn’t care less about his hallucination’s feelings. He sucked in a breath, held it for four seconds, let it out again, tried to encourage his heart to settle in his chest. With a hand that he couldn’t keep from trembling slightly, Lyor closed the incriminating tab and cleared his browser history. He weakly massaged his temples- his fingers came away slick with sweat.

“I was wrong,” he heard Seth breathe. “I’m not a ghost. This is hell.”

Even if Lyor wanted to respond to that, he didn’t think he’d be able to. All he could concentrate on was the rush of blood in his ears, so similar to the roar of an incoming wave.

Seth’s voice was an insidious whisper that left his ears tingling. “What the hell did I do to deserve you?”

Lyor closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, ready and waiting, was the image of Seth’s body, bruised and broken and dead. And Lyor, knelt before him, utterly useless.

That was a good question.

The day dragged on, slow as molasses, after that. Lyor eventually managed to calm himself down, and once he was able to leave his office he switched onto autopilot to get through the slog of meetings that were waiting for him. Seth talked the whole way through; hurling half hearted insults, and asking questions, and even sometimes giving advice. Lyor ignored it all, keeping all his thoughts focused on the work. That was harder by the end of the day, though, when everything that could be done was done. Lyor weighed up his options: sitting in his office, alone, with a hallucination of a dead man- not ideal. Or he could go and sit at home, alone, with a hallucination of a dead man. Also not overly appealing.

Lyor was passing by Kendra’s office when the sight of its slightly ajar door, and the sound of typing on a phone, presented a third, far more tantalising option. He poked his head in, and Kendra peeked up at him with a smile.

“Hey there.”

“Hey,” Lyor answered back, seeing that she didn’t seem caught up in anything important and so slipping through the door and collapsing languidly across her couch. Seth trailed in behind him, hovering by Kendra’s desk and gazing down at her with a tender, rueful smile.

“Hey, Kendra,” he murmured. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Long day?” Kendra asked, putting her phone on the desk to face him properly. Lyor chuckled. She had no idea.

“As long as ever,” he said, staring up at the ceiling through half-lidded eyes. “We should be getting a new Chief of Staff soon, though.”

“No more Aaron. You must be delighted.”

A wry smile twisted at his lips.“Aaron is...adequate. But I think it’s high time he gets booted back to National Security. I much prefer him working in the shadows.”

“Where you don’t have to see him?”

Lyor could hear the smile in her voice, and he answered with a grin of his own. “Exactly.”

“You won’t hear me complaining. It’ll make Senior Staff feel more like a meeting and less like negotiating a peace treaty,” Kendra said with a laugh, but it melted into a small sigh. “You know, the President isn’t happy about it, though. I think he’s liked having Aaron around more.” She hesitated a moment, and Lyor could guess why- she was wondering if Lyor would be willing to talk about what she had to say next. “Reminds him of the old times, I guess,” she finally continued. “Before Seth and Emily...”

Lyor let his eyes slip fully closed. He didn’t, in fact, want to talk about either of those people, but he was grateful that Kendra had gone ahead and said it anyway. Clearly she knew he could handle it.

“He’s the only one left,” he finished her half realised musing. It was a sobering thought, and it hung in the heavy silence. Aaron really was completely alone, apart from the President. There was himself and Kendra, of course, but they were different, new. They hadn’t been there from the beginning. There had always been a certain bond between the original three- Aaron, Seth, and Emily- that neither them ever had a hope of entering into. But now two of the three had fallen, leaving Aaron in their wake. And the President, clinging desperately onto him, as a symbol of what remained the part of his Presidency before everything fell to pieces. Lyor felt an unexpected twinge of pity for the both of them.

Pity deepened by the fact that Seth and Emily hadn’t left the same way. Seth had died, but Emily...she was gone because of her own choices. There was betrayal there, amidst all that grief. Betrayal, and desperation.

“The President is still trying to hold onto Emily,” Lyor said. It was something he knew Kendra was painfully aware of. Her answering hiss of frustration was proof enough of that.

“I know. She’s one of his oldest friends. It makes sense.” Even her attempt at understanding wasn’t altogether convincing. Kendra wanted to be done with the troubles that Emily was causing them, and the President was getting in the way of that.

“I know it does,” Lyor swiped a hand exhaustedly over his face, “but he needs to realise she’s a lost cause if he’s ever going to stand for re-election. We’ll be dead in the water with a scandal like this attached to us- assuming we aren’t already.” He tipped his head to face Kendra- and Seth, who was standing behind her. Lyor was surprised that he hadn’t heard a peep from the hallucination, considering they were talking about Emily, but Seth seemed wholly focused on Kendra’s computer screen, peering at it with a thoughtful tilt to his head.

But he wasn’t thinking about Seth anymore, Lyor reminded himself sternly. He brought his thoughts back to Kendra. “You need to talk some sense into him.”

Kendra frowned in confusion. “Me? Why?”

Lyor raised an eyebrow. “Because you can get him to do anything,” he said dryly. “Perks of dating his brother.” Nepotism if he ever saw it, but Lyor couldn’t deny that it was useful. If he’d known that sleeping with Trey Kirkman would prove to be so effective in wrangling the President, he might have given it a go himself.

Kendra shook her head, smile fading slightly. “ _Was_ ,” she corrected. “ _Was_ dating his brother.”

“Oh?” Lyor said, trying not to sound too interested. He slid himself up into a half sitting position, peering at Kendra over his glasses.“So, that’s completely over, then?”

Kendra pursed her lips, fiddling with her phone.“Yeah. We talked it over on the weekend, and we both agreed that it just wasn’t working.” Kendra stopped, but there was an expectant silence that followed, as if she was itching to keep talking. Lyor supposed Kendra probably didn’t have many people she could actually talk to about this. The people she’d been on the friendliest terms with at the White House, apart from himself, were Seth and Emily. And they were gone.

Lyor was happy to be her sounding board. He was in need for a distraction. He tilted his head encouragingly.

Kendra shrugged, letting out a huff. “With everything that’s happened the last few months, we just...drifted.” She breathed out a harsh laugh. “Well, I did. I think Trey was willing to put the work in, but I couldn’t. He’s sweet, he really is, and I really liked him, but...I had to focus on processing, grieving.” She shrugged sadly, “And he understood.”

Lyor nodded, and Kendra looked down at the beep of an incoming text message, but there was still a disquieted twist to her lips. Lyor was patient. He was sure she’d talk eventually. Lawyers always liked talking, Kendra especially so.

“I don’t know,” she murmured uncertainly, eyes swimming with restrained emotion as she stared down at her phone. “Sometimes it feels like, with everything that’s going on, it isn’t right, to try and be happy with someone. Not while everyone else is hurting.”

Lyor frowned. He’d expected Kendra to talk, but saying something like that wasn’t like her at all. He wouldn’t have expected something so inane from her of all people. He fixed her with a hard stare.

“Kendra,” he said firmly. “Things are always going to be going wrong. We’re always going to be losing people. Don’t use that as an excuse for holding yourself back.”

Kendra sighed. “You’re right,” she relented. “But I still think breaking up was the right thing to do, for me. It just wasn’t our time.” She glanced back up at him. “Besides, I have other priorities right now.”

They held each other’s gaze for a few long, lingering seconds, until Kendra cracked a smile and let loose a chuckle, shaking her head. “Look at you, with your good advice. Where did that come from?”

Lyor dropped his eyes. “I’m full of good advice. It’s why people always come to me with their relationship problems.”

Kendra laughed again, and Lyor allowed himself a little smile.

“Thank you.” Kendra said. Her voice was still warmed by laughter, but she sounded serious.

“No need to thank me. Getting to share my wisdom is its own gift.”

“No,” she smiled. “Well, yes, thank you for that as well. But I meant, for pretending that you aren’t overjoyed by this. I know you thought it was unorthodox, me dating the President’s brother.”

Lyor carefully stilled his expression. It was true that he had never been particularly fond of Kendra dating Trey. He had initially been concerned with the possibility of allegations of impropriety, but those worries had been alleviated when he realised that Kendra and Trey, as lovesick as they had been, were still very professional about it, the President too.

No, Lyor had privately been a bit peeved that dating Trey had eaten up the time Kendra could have been spending with him. It was hard to waltz into her office and vent about the ridiculousness of his day when she and her boyfriend were busy making out like teenagers on the couch. He preferred having Kendra all to himself, for convenience’s sake.

But Kendra didn’t need to know that.

“I never said any such thing,” Lyor shot back cheekily instead.

Kendra said something in reply, her face alight with mirth as she smirked. But Lyor didn’t hear it. Seth, who had been almost disturbingly silent since coming into Kendra’s office, had jumped in, and his voice commanded Lyor’s attention. This wasn’t a plea- this was composed, confident.

“Sorry for taking so long to get back to you,” he said, looking Lyor dead in the eye. “Thursday at 3 suits me just fine. It shouldn’t take more than an hour. I’ll let you know if anything changes. Kind Regards, Catherine Li. Sent at 6:46 PM.”

Lyor blinked, frowned, blinked some more. Had his mind broken completely? “What?”

Kendra cocked her head, still smiling wryly. “...I said that you didn’t have to say anything. About disapproving of Trey. Those eyebrows of yours said it all.”

But Lyor wasn’t listening. He wanted to ignore Seth like he said he would, but the hallucination was behaving so bizarrely it was impossible not to take notice.

Seth spoke again. “Get Kendra to read out the email on her screen right now. Lyor.” Lyor’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out what this was all supposed to mean, but Seth held up a halting hand as he rushed on. “If you do this for me, okay, then I won’t bother you ever again. I swear. Just- please- just trust me, and ask her.”

This was a whole new level of strange. Lyor didn’t know what to think.

“Hey! Earth to Lyor.”

He snapped his head towards Kendra, who was waving a hand to grab his attention. There was a glint of bafflement in her eyes.

“Uh- sorry, I-“ he tried to say, shifting in his seat, but Seth cut him off.

“This is all the proof you’ll need.”

Lyor doubted that, and he imagined that this was going to go the same route that Seth’s disastrous attempt at talking to a woman at the train station had. But the hallucination was promising to leave him alone if he did this, and as slim as that chance was, Lyor was going to take it.

Lyor cleared his throat as he returned his eyes to Kendra. “Could you, uh, could you read out the email that you have open?”

Kendra’s brow furrowed. “...Why?”

“Just humour me.”

“...Alright,” she said slowly, and turned her eyes to the screen. “Sorry for taking so long to get back to you. Thursday at 3 suits me just fine. It shouldn’t take more than an hour...“

Lyor felt like he’d been dunked in ice, as if Seth had put his hand through him again. Behind Kendra, Seth was mouthing along as she spoke, eyes trained on the computer screen, reading something that Lyor couldn’t see...

“Who sent it?” Lyor asked, mouth dry. “What time?”

“Uh, Catherine Li, from the Attorney General’s office, at 6:46...Lyor, are you okay?”

Lyor had given up subtlety, and was now openly gaping at Seth. The hallucination- but how? How could a hallucination know that?- spread his arms wide, a look of triumph on his face.

“You want more proof?” Seth sang. “Here. A text from her mum, at 9:20. Do they ever let you sleep? With three question marks.”

Lyor’s head wobbled from side to side, disbelievingly. When he spoke, the words felt like gravel in his throat. “You just got a text, right?”

Kendra glanced down at her phone. “Yeah. Lyor, what-“

“From your mum?,” Lyor asked desperately, and watched as Kendra’s eyes grew wider and wider. “Do they ever let you sleep, with three question marks? 9:20 PM?”

“How did you know that- hey! Lyor, what the hell?” Lyor had sprung up from the couch and crossed the room in record time, snatching the phone from a protesting Kendra’s hands. His heart thumped painfully as he ogled the screen.

 **Mum:**  
Do they ever let you sleep???  
Received at 9:20 PM

Lyor let the phone fall back onto the desk with a clatter. He had never seen that before in his life. How the hell had Seth known exactly what it said? How-

Seth had ghosted through Kendra’s desk, and was now stood in front of him. A hand misted through his, and Lyor felt a chill race through him. And, almost, like a memory of touch, the brush of icy fingers against his.

Seth had a look of grim satisfaction on his face. “Is that enough goddamn proof for you?”

Lyor’s mouth worked silently, until he finally managed to spit out, “I need to go.”

Kendra stood up abruptly, eyes wide in alarm. “What’s going on?” she demanded. But Lyor had already bolted out the door.

Mercifully, Seth stayed silent the entire anxiety ridden train ride home, pinning Lyor down with a steely gaze as Lyor twisted the fabric of his pants in his hands and tried to talk himself out of his third breakdown that day. As soon as they were out of the train station, however, Seth spoke up.

“Well?” he asked simply. “What do you have to say?”

Lyor shook his head, grasping for an explanation he could be satisfied with. “I could have seen her phone before,” he muttered. “I could have read it and- and subconsciously memorised the message.”

“And her email?” Seth snapped. Lyor reached his apartment, hopping up the stairs two at a time as he fumbled blindly for his keys.

“I must have seen- in a reflection-“

“Reflection from what? There were no windows behind her, nothing that the screen could have reflected off.”

Lyor finally heard the click of the lock and he yanked the door open, stumbling inside. The door hung open behind him.

Lyor practicallyy fell over onto his couch, banging his shins against the coffee table and almost dislodging a mug that was balanced precariously near the edge. He dropped his face into trembling hands. He couldn’t look at Seth.

He had to be insane. He had to be. Because the only other possibility was- was-

Lyor sucked in a hitching breath. “There has to be an explanation for this-“

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Seth howled.

A bang echoed through the apartment. The entire room was frigid- colder than Lyor could ever remember it being.

Seth kept yelling. He wouldn’t stop. “I’ve been giving you an explanation all day! I’m not a hallucination, I’m a ghost. That’s how I’m able to read things that you can’t see and know things that you don’t know. Why is this so hard for you to accept? You asked me to prove that I was really here, and now I have! Why are you being so difficult about this? Why can’t you just fucking believe me-“

“Just-just shut up!” Lyor screamed back, tearing his hands from his face and throwing them in the air. “I’m trying to think!”

“No, you do not get to rationalise me away this time!” Seth shrieked, eyes wild and frenzied.

Lyor’s gaze was drawn away from Seth to the door. It was closed. He hadn’t shut it.

“Don’t you dare fucking ignore me, Lyor! I cannot do this anymore, do you hear me?”

Lyor was frozen. There was no wind. There was nobody else there. He hadn’t shut the door.

“I need you to look at me!” Seth yelled. “Look at me-“

With a snarl of frustration, Seth flung his arm across the coffee table, aiming straight for the mug. Lyor watched the hand fly closer, closer, waiting for it to clip straight through.

Seth’s hand hit the mug. It soared across the room and shattered against the wall.

The yelling quieted in an instant. Both of them slowly swivelled their heads to stare at what was left of the mug. The cup had split into half a dozen jagged pieces, the handle snapped off completely. There was a chip in the paint on the wall where the mug had made impact.

Lyor stood. He brushed past Seth, who had surprise painted fresh on his face. He stepped over to the mug, knelt down and picked up a shard of ceramic. He could feel its sharp edge beneath his skin as he balanced it in his palm.

Lyor slowly closed his hand around the shard, squeezing tight. He felt the sting as the jagged edge sliced into his palm, but he didn’t cry out. The ceramic, slick with blood, slipped from his fingers, and Lyor watched as red droplets blossomed from the crescent slice across his skin.

This was real. This was real. This was real.

He turned his head to face Seth. Surprise still lingered in the creases of his features, but it was outshone by bright eyed, glistening hope.

“Now do you believe me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, things are getting distinctly paranormal!


	6. Aftershock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Loooong chapter this week.

Lyor stared.

The only sound in the room was his breathing. No longer haggard, but tight and controlled in his chest as he slipped abruptly into numb shock. Seth was mercifully silent for once, watching him with wary, hooded eyes as Lyor scanned him up and down, up and down, checking one last time for any trick, but knowing deep down that he wouldn’t find any.

Lyor didn’t bother wondering if he was asleep, though this seemed like something straight out of a dream. He’d had enough nightmares to recognise the feeling, and right now, he was most definitely awake.

There was a logic that had to be accepted here. Seth had read that email and that text, which Lyor had never seen before. He had also flung the mug across the room, and slammed the door shut. Those were the facts, laid bare, and they left Lyor with two options. There was a possibility he was more insane than he thought, and this entire day had been an elaborate hallucination. But if that was the truth, then he was probably too far gone for anything to be done. And if that was the case, then his entire sense of reality was in question- and, as the throbbing pain in his palm kept reminding him, this all felt pretty real.

So, that left one conclusion. Well, Lyor thought hysterically, at least he wasn’t crazy. Small blessings.

His fingers dropped to brush against the shard of ceramic he’d cut himself on, smearing the blood into a vivid shock of red against off-white. This wasn’t just throwing his sense of reality into question- it was taking the very foundations of his understanding of reality and shattering it. But what had his father always told him? The cold, hard truth always mattered most, even if it hurt.

The truth, then.

“Seth,” Lyor breathed, barely above a whisper, and Seth sagged as though all his strings had been snapped, nearly sobbing in relief.

“You believe me,” he gasped out, hands braced against his knees and shaking as Lyor painstakingly clambered to his feet. “You believe me, you believe me. Thank god. Christ, Lyor, I-“ Seth stumbled forward, arms outstretched as if he were about to pull Lyor into a hug. Just like with the mug, the rational part of Lyor’s brain expected his hand to sail right through, but as Seth’s fingers grasped at his shoulder, he felt the touch- icy cold, and less firm than what it should be, but there. Lyor leapt back with a hiss, smacking flush against the wall and hearing the crunch of ceramic underfoot as he levelled Seth with a warning glare.

Seth froze, hesitantly dropping his arms to his sides. He stepped back, shrinking in on himself a little. He did that far easier now, Lyor noticed, than when he was alive. Seth, alive, had never been able to seem this small. He bit his lip as he swept his gaze over Lyor, taking in his taut form, the shattered remains of the mug strewn on the ground, the blood from the cut on Lyor’s palm dripping steadily onto the hardwood floors. His eyes were dark with remorse.

“Sorry,” he murmured uncertainly. “I-I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Lyor let out a breath. It felt like his chest was collapsing inward as it whooshed out of him. “Scared?” he echoed. “I’m not scared of you, Seth.”

Seth nodded, still watching him carefully, still looking cowed. Silence settled thick like dust around them as they held each other’s gaze, watching each other like wary animals. Lyor felt thrown. Before, he’d had a plan- ignore Seth until he could get himself on whatever medication would hopefully stop his hallucinations. But Lyor had no action plan in dealing with a ghost.

He wanted this to all be a dream. He wanted to open his eyes and be alone again. He wanted to fall to his knees and apologise until his throat bled. He wanted to Seth closer. He wanted Seth to stay as far away as possible. He didn’t know what he wanted. Or, he realised as his chest tightened unbearably, how he felt. This was all too much.

Seth seemed to have left him the floor, waiting for him to speak. A mercy, considering how much speaking the ghost had been doing that day, but Lyor himself was at a loss. He had come to terms with the fact that he would never be able speak to his friend again. Everything that he’d wanted to say, he’d buried deep, deep down, never to be thought about again. That was how this was supposed to go. But now, Seth was there- he was standing right in front of Lyor, waiting for him to talk. This wasn’t part of the plan.

He’d never been tongue tied before, and it was quite a disconcerting feeling. He didn’t like it one bit.

“I was searching for you for hours,” he said finally, and Seth swiped at his eyes. “And then just when I find you, you die three minutes later. It was very inconsiderate of you.”

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t what he wanted to say. But Lyor wasn’t even sure what that was anymore.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said again, face creased.

Lyor watched the puddle of blood slowly forming at his feet. “Yeah.”

Seth shuffled his feet restlessly. Now that he had won the battle of convincing Lyor he was real, he seemed suddenly at a loss, unsure of himself. His voice was thick with trepidation, as if he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, when he spoke. “How...how long has it been?”

“Twelve weeks.”

“Fuck. Twelve weeks. Fuck.” The words sounded muffled. Lyor imagined Seth with a hand pressed over his mouth, trying to keep himself together as the news crashed into him. He couldn’t see- he kept his eyes on the blood. The sight of it made his stomach churn, but it was better than seeing Seth. He couldn’t see the man break down, not when he knew that it was really him.

“Is my family okay?” Seth’s voice sounded steadier, and Lyor risked looking up. The man still looked a mess, but it was tempered by the urgency in his eyes as he waited for Lyor’s answer.

Lyor didn’t have one to give. He blinked slowly. “Your family?”

“Yeah, my-my mum and dad. And Micky, my little brother.”

Right, yes, the Wrights. Lyor had done his very best to avoid Seth’s family, but he remembered them vividly now. Mrs Wright had been crying, he remembered, silent tears rolling down her face, but still smiling as she greeted all the well-wishers. Mr Wright had kept his arm wrapped around her shoulders the entire time, stony faced- so much like his own father it had made Lyor’s stomach churn a little. The younger brother, Michael, had given a eulogy. His voice had broken halfway through, and he’d stood in silence for nearly half a minute, blinking stubbornly up at the ceiling with his hands gripping the sides of the podium like clamps, until he was able to speak again. Lyor remembered thinking, at that moment, that Seth’s little brother would have made a terrible Press Secretary.

They hadn’t seemed ‘okay,’ but how was Lyor to judge? He hadn’t followed up on them. “I have no idea, Seth,” he said dully, still frozen against the wall. “I didn’t see them for long at the funeral.”

“The funeral?” Seth breathed, voice small, and then shook his head slightly. “Right, of course.”

Lyor wondered how he would feel, hearing about his own funeral. Probably annoyed that he’d missed it. He always felt curious about how it would go, what people would say. Nothing good, likely.

“They cremated you.” Lyor said. He wasn’t sure why he offered that small detail- he didn’t know if it was something Seth wanted to hear. But every thought that passed through his mind seemed to be slipping out of him as he tried to sift through the swirling mess of emotions clouding his head.

“Oh. Good.” Seth said, and laughed, thin and a tad hysterical. “Always kind of worried they’d just bury me anyway. It’s what my mum wanted. Everyone else in the family has been buried, but I always thought...” he trailed off as Lyor stared blankly at him, and he bit his lip, clenching and unclenching his fists. He looked utterly lost.

Seth was silent for a few more seconds, eyes fixed on Lyor like he could find all the answers he needed just by staring at him.

“How’s everybody else?” he finally asked. “How...how are you?”

Well, that was a loaded question. Lyor thought about Kendra, chewing her nails into nothing from stress, and letting one of the only people who actually made her smile slip out of her life. He thought about the time he’d walked in on Aaron crying- he’d yelled at Lyor for not knocking and kicked him out, but not before Lyor caught sight of his red rimmed eyes. He thought about the shadows cutting into the President’s face as he admitted that he couldn’t bear the thought of a new Press Secretary.

He tried not to think about his own restless, screaming nights, the feeling of sweat on the back of his neck, the empty pit where his stomach used to be.

“They’re a mess,” Lyor said listlessly, pointedly avoiding answering about how he was. He knew Seth was more interested in the others anyway..“Everything’s a goddamn mess, Seth. The President is stuck in limbo, and I have to cover for the both of us, and Emily-“

Seth nodded tightly, licking his lips anxiously. There was a terribly desperate look on his face, one that Lyor recognised all too quickly after an entire day of it.

“Emily?” Seth prompted, and Lyor shook his head exhaustedly. He glanced down as another burst of smarting pain radiated from his palm, and realised that his entire hand was coated in blood. Beneath it, a smattering of blood droplets darkened the floorboards. Lyor grimaced. Whether it was the amount of blood, or the realisation that it would stain if it wasn’t cleaned up, or the electric jolt from hearing Emily’s name, but he suddenly felt able to move, and he sluggishly made his way to the kitchen and one handedly dug out his first aid kit from underneath the sink.

He could feel Seth’s expectant gaze on the back of his neck, and so, as he stuck his bleeding hand under the stream of tap water, he began speaking.

“She resigned- while we were still in Taurasi, actually,” he began, watching the blood run pink as it swirled down the drain. “She’d harassed the Chief Justice. And it turns out it wasn’t just that. She leaked to the press.”

“The Moss leak. Yeah, I know.” Seth said. “She told me. She found out by getting Simon Day’s phone hacked. I couldn’t believe she could do something so stupid.”

Lyor felt his lips twitch, but it was an automatic reflex.

Seth fell silent as he digested the news. Lyor turned the tap off, carefully dabbing his hands dry. The gash on his palm smiled up at him, red and ghastly. Lyor turned around to grab a bandage, and Seth fixed him with a knowing stare.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

The rolled bandage dangled loosely from Lyor’s fingertips. He thinned his lips, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming. “The FBI have just started an investigation. They suspect collusion with Russia. Treason.”

Seth blinked, lips parted slightly in frozen shock, shifting slightly as he crossed and uncrossed his arms.“No. No, that can’t- Emily wouldn’t do that.”

Lyor shrugged tiredly. “There’s footage, apparently, of her meeting with a Russian agent. I don’t know the details, but I imagine there was some kind of tit for tat- she was feeding them intelligence to destabilise Moss’s campaign.”

The bandage squeezed painfully tight around Lyor’s hand. He tugged harder. “Cameras don’t lie.”

Seth was shaking his head, one long, fluid, continuous movement. “But they can mislead. We- we can’t be sure that’s what was actually happening. We need all the facts-“

Lyor pinched the bridge of his nose.“She practically confessed, Seth.”

Seth’s eyes were wide, rimmed all around with bright white. “She said she was colluding with Russia?”

“In as many words, yeah,” Lyor shrugged. The words dragged themselves out of his throat- and he still couldn’t quite believe this, that he was holding an actual conversation about Emily with Seth, the real Seth. The shock of it was what kept him speaking, kept him from falling into an inescapable pit of whirring thoughts about what the hell this all this entailed for his understanding of, well, everything. “She said that she’d been “trying to ensure the President’s success, through whatever means necessary.” Factor in the video, and all the other leads that Hannah Wells is digging up, and things aren’t looking good for her.”

Seth ran a hand down his face, springing to life as he began pacing. Lyor eyed another mug he had left on the kitchen counter. Distantly, he hoped Seth wouldn’t smash that one as well- it was his favourite. Seth whirled back around to face him. “Have you spoken to her?”

Lyor was growing weary of this interrogation. He watched Seth’s animated face- his actual face, not a hallucination- and god, somehow that was so much worse. His stomach flipped. “Not since the funeral,” he said. “We’ve been distancing ourselves. The White House doesn’t associate itself with traitors.”

Seth’s mouth shaped itself silently around the word ‘traitor,’ eyes still incredulous. “She’s our friend.”

Lyor’s lips thinned. Emily was his friend- one of his longest, actually. They hadn’t been overly close, but there was an unspoken understanding between the two of them that Lyor had always appreciated. He hadn’t sought comfort after returning from Taurasi- he hadn’t needed it, despite what Kendra had seemed to think. He’d just needed to be alone. But he had craved the steady reassurance that Emily would be there- a hint of normalcy. And then all that shattered. First, he found out that Emily had resigned, and then...

Trust wasn’t something Lyor gave easily, and Emily- his longest friend, the one person he thought he could rely on after Taurasi- had broken it. He supposed he shouldn’t have been too surprised. He had trusted Greg Bowen that much once upon a time- more than that, actually- and look how he turned out. People always revealed their true colours in the end, Emily just took a bit longer. Lyor just had to move on. And now, apparently, so would Seth.

“What, like Dax Minton was the President’s friend? Or William Winton? Or Cornelius Moss, or Peter McLeish? The fact that you can still trust anyone implicitly by this point is baffling.” Lyor tried to lace some venom into his words, to make the reprimand sink in quicker, but he was too tired. Too tired for this conversation, and too tired, far too tired, for Seth.

“I can’t believe this,” Seth murmured, and Lyor wanted to laugh. They were both facing things they couldn’t believe that night, it seemed. Even with all the proof laid out in front of him, even with the constant stinging of his hand, none of this felt quite real. 

Seth’s face was twisted with anguish. It reminded Lyor all too much of how he looked lying on that hotel floor, terrified and in pain. He felt vaguely sick- he could stand seeing it anymore.

“Believe what you want, Seth,” Lyor sighed, “I’m going to bed.”

“Wha-? Oh, right, yeah. Sure.” Seth said, glancing dazedly at him. Lyor sloped off towards his bedroom, shooting only a scant look back over his shoulder. Seth, for the first time, seemed aware of his surroundings, and he was peering around awkwardly, looking as out of place as a child alone at a new school.

Lyor remembered how confused Seth had looked standing in his bedroom that morning. Lyor remembered the dull horror that had swept over him at waking up to see Seth standing over his bed. He felt his skin crawl.

“Don’t come into my room,” he warned.

Seth frowned. “Uh, sure.”

Despite Seth’s reassurance, Lyor made sure to close his bedroom door. He supposed it wouldn’t make that much difference- even if he locked it, Seth would be able to pass through- but it was a pointed gesture. Hopefully Seth would get the message.

Lyor tipped himself back onto his bed, still unmade from that morning. He didn’t bother undressing, only kicking off his shoes. He started unknotting his tie, but his fingers felt too heavy, and he let his hands fall flat against the mattress, blinking dazedly up at the ceiling.

He’d just held a conversation with a dead man like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Well, that was certainly something.

There were certain things that Lyor had always held to be true, as common-sense as saying that the sky was blue, or that Gogi Kombucha was disgusting. One of those was that ghosts were not real. But- well, Lyor had some new information to factor into his worldview now. So, ghosts existed. That meant there had to be an afterlife, in some sense of the word. Fine. But then came the question of a God, or some cosmic justice system that could determine whether you got stuck on earth or passed over. That, Lyor had always been less sure of. It wasn’t a belief he’d ever required for his understanding of the world, so he’d simply decided that he would assume it was nonsense unless some undeniable proof was presented to him.

This was proof of something, alright. But proof of some sort of god?

Lyor’s eyelids drooped, and he grumbled, setting his glasses wearily on his bedside table. This was going to require further analysis, but not now. He was too exhausted for an existential crisis right at the moment. He needed sleep, and then he could figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He listened intently for any sounds coming from outside his bedroom, but whatever Seth was doing, he was doing it quietly. There was no sound to be heard, even as Lyor’s eyes slipped fully closed and he drifted off into sleep.

It felt like only a second later that he was gasping himself awake, throat already raw from screaming, but Lyor could make out the morning light seeping through the curtains. His chest heaved as he desperately tried to suck in lungfuls of air, paralysed against the mattress, and to his fury, he could feel unshed tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He squeezed them shut.

It had been Seth as a ghost this time. No blood, no grotesque, caved in cheekbone- but somehow, it was even more horrifying. He had been standing over Lyor’s bed, eyes black with hatred as he’d spat acidic words at him.

_“I’m like this because of you,” he’d hissed. “I’m suffering because of you. You left me to die.”_

_“No,” Lyor had struggled to gasp out, “I tried- I tried to find you in time, I swear-“_

_“Saying you tried is just a weak man’s way of admitting to failure.” Seth, at that moment, hadn’t sounded like himself. He’d sounded like Lyor’s father._

_“I’m sorry,” he had whimpered, suddenly feeling ten years old again, but Seth had just shaken his head disgustedly._

_“You’re fucking useless,” he’d hissed. Lyor kept gasping out apologies and desperate pleas, but it go harder to talk. There had been water rising up around him, soaking his bedsheets, weighing Lyor down until it had closed in over his head, and the only thing entering his mouth was the briny taste of seawater._

Even now that he was awake, Lyor was finding it hard to catch a breath. His eyes fluttered open, squinted at the blurry mess of the world around him, and with his heart slamming against the wall of his chest, Lyor spotted a dark figure creeping towards him.

Not this. Not again. No, no, no, no, no.

“Lyor? Are you okay?” Lyor heard distantly, and as an icy hand brushed against his forearm, he recoiled with a wordless snarl, the horror of that touch breaking through the paralysis that gripped him after his nightmares.

“Don’t touch me!” Lyor gasped out. He couldn’t bear to feel that inhumane touch against his skin, because it was a reminder. Seth was here, but not properly here, because he was a ghost, because he was dead, because Lyor hadn’t found him in time-

His throat was constricting. It felt like he was drowning. Lyor curled into a ball, knees drawn up against his chest and face buried in his hands as he tried to remember how to breathe again. He refused to look at Seth, but the telltale chill in the air let Lyor know that he was still there.

“You’re having a panic attack,” Seth said knowingly, like he was helping, and even through Lyor’s screaming thoughts, he managed to roll his eyes. He knew exactly what this was.

Seth continued, voice soft and soothing. “You had one yesterday as well, I think. In your office. Hey, it’s okay, just take deep breaths, yeah? You’re alright.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Lyor bit out through clenched teeth. He was already closer to being calm, his breathing evening out, and he hated that he had gotten to be this good at easing himself out of panic attacks. He shouldn’t have had to get used to this feeling. He’d never once had a panic attack before Seth died, but now this was his second in two days.

Seth was back, but here Lyor was, still quaking in his bed. 

He lifted his head, shooting Seth a watery glare. “What’s the point of you being here,” he hissed, “if I’m still like this?”

“I-“ Seth floundered, but, Lyor was already shaking his head. Because that wasn’t right- he wasn’t in the midst of a breakdown despite Seth being back, he was in the midst of one _because_ Seth was back.

The churning mess of feelings that had been running through him since last night had been unidentifiable before, but now Lyor felt them coalesce into one solid emotion: anger.

He raked his bandaged hand across his face. “Lots of people spoke at your funeral,” he said bitterly. “You’re real popular, you know that? Yeah, they talked a lot about how kind you were, how loyal, how you were such a good friend.” Seth listened silently, confusion showing as he tried to follow where this was going, and Lyor shook his head. “Nobody mentioned anything about how you were a self-sacrificial, thoughtless moron.”

Seth’s brow furrowed.“What?”

“You could have been on the roof, Seth!” Lyor yelled. Seth’s mouth formed a formed a silent ‘o’ of surprise, and Lyor nodded jerkily. “Yeah, I know about that. Once you carried those kids up, you could have stayed there. But no, you had to go and play the hero, didn’t you?”

“I was trying to-“

“To what? What were you going to do- carry all of Taurasi to safety on your back? What the hell were you thinking?”

The fluster from before was gone, replaced by hardened resolve.“I couldn’t just stand back and let those people die. I had to try and do something.”

“Oh, how noble,” Lyor sneered. “Was it worth it? Because it didn’t accomplish anything. You couldn’t save anybody. You died for _nothing_.” Seth recoiled like he’d been slapped in the face, but Lyor kept talking, voice becoming more and more heated. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was aware that this wasn’t like when he thought Seth was a hallucination, that this was probably cruel, but Lyor couldn’t give a fuck.

How much trouble could have been avoided, if Seth had just used his goddamn head? Everything from the last few months- the misery, the anger, the goddamn humiliation of it all- none of it would have happened if it wasn’t for Seth.

There was a terrible pain in Lyor’s chest. It was more than anger. It felt like it could expand until his ribs snapped from the pressure.

Seth dying had thrown Lyor’s life off the rails, and he was just trying to get it together. But now Seth was back. He was back, he was going to bring back up everything that Lyor had worked so hard to push down, and he was going to ruin everything again.

“I had to watch you die,” Lyor said, jabbing a finger accusingly at Seth’s chest. “I had to carry that. But I’m done, I’ve moved on, okay? I don’t want this.”

Seth held his hands up placatingly. “Lyor, I know this is hard for you, but there has to be a reason I’m here,” he said imploringly, but Lyor just shook his head.

“I-I don’t care. I don’t care if there’s a reason,” he rasped. “Get out. I don’t want you here.”

“I’m sorry I came in here, okay? I just heard you screaming and I got worried-“

“Not my bedroom,” Lyor snapped. “I don’t want you anywhere near me, okay? I want you gone.”

Seth’s eyes widened in alarm. “What?- Lyor, you saw it, nobody else can see me. Where else am I supposed to go?”

Lyor clenched his fists, pressing himself back against the headboard of his bed. “Anywhere but here.”

Seth shook his head incredulously, eyes burning like they had been last night, and he opened his mouth to say something. But the words died on his lips, and he just stood there, eyes fixed on Lyor. Lyor stared defiantly back, jaw set determinedly. He was done letting this hang over him. It didn’t matter that Seth was back- it didn’t fix anything. He was still dead. Lyor wasn’t interested in a haunting- he’d been haunted for the last three months.

With a defeated nod, Seth walked to the door. There were a few moments of tense silence as Lyor watched him go, and Seth lingered in front of the closed door. He turned back, shooting Lyor an unreadable look over his shoulder.

“I don’t want this either,” he said finally.

Lyor didn’t say anything, and Seth turned away. His fingers hesitated over the door handle, but his grasp was solid as they closed over it, and he opened the door effortlessly, letting it slip closed behind him. A few seconds later, Lyor heard the slam of the front door, and then all was quiet.

He let his head fall back against the headboard, barely registering the dull pain. Almost as soon as he hears that door slam, a stab of regret, sharp and hot, splintered through him. But he pushed it down, smothered it with the anger still pooling in his belly. This was what he wanted- he wanted things to be normal again. And the pain in his chest was far duller now that Seth wasn’t there.

Lyor pressed his fingers to his mouth, hoping the pressure would ground him, trying to stop his lips from quivering. He reluctantly stood and went into the living room, snagging his phone from where it had fallen onto the couch.

He huffed out a laugh when he saw the time- 7:35. He actually had forgotten to set his alarm this time. Aaron would not be pleased. Lyor considered the idea of having to face his boss’s wrath for the second day in a row, on top of everything else. It wasn’t appealing.

Fuck it, he was calling in sick. Going into work in the state he was in would probably result in someone getting dismembered. Now he could just focus on-

Fuck. He just remembered the session with Penfold he’d scheduled for today. Lyor cursed himself. Now that he knew he wasn’t hallucinating, it was completely unnecessary, but if he asked for an emergency session and then cancelled, Penfold would be doubly concerned, and Lyor would never hear the end of it. He’d have suck it up and go, think of some excuse for why he’d scheduled it.

He could say he wanted to push forward being prescribed anti-anxiety meds, Lyor reasoned as he made the call saying he was ill. It wasn’t even a lie- he needed to get a handle on these panic attacks.

Lyor had just hung up the curt phone call, when an all too familiar chill pervading the air caused his heart to seize, a growl of frustration ready on his tongue. He wondered if it was possible to kill someone who was already dead.

“Thought I told you to leave?” he muttered, not turning around. “Are you deaf as well as dead?”

“I tried,” came Seth’s voice from behind him. “Got about a block before I ended up back here again.”

Despite his annoyance, and exhaustion, and deep reluctance to turn around and see Seth again, Lyor’s curiosity latched tightly onto the other man’s words. That was very interesting indeed. Seth wasn’t some free wandering spirit, then. There was something tying him down, but not to this place- to him. It explained why only he could see or hear Seth.

That was a juicy thought to dwell on, but it presented Lyor with a more immediate problem he needed to deal with. “So,” he sighed, lip curling. “I’m stuck with you.”

“Looks like.” Seth’s feet made no sound against the wooden floor, but the prickle of hair raising on his arms, standing up against the sudden approaching cold, let Lyor know that Seth was coming towards him. Lyor reluctantly turned to face the ghost. Seth had his arms crossed, mouth drawn in a harsh line.

“I know this has been hard for you,” Seth said, “and I don’t want to hurt you. But, fuck man,” he laughed brokenly, “this isn’t exactly a joyride for me either.” He spread his arms wide, gesturing at himself. “I’m dead. I have to deal with that. And I can’t do that with you kicking me around all the time. So, I need to know where we go from here.”

Lyor could only tip his head back exhaustedly. He wanted to be angry again. Anger made him feel safe, protected him from the swirl of conflicting emotions clouding his head. But all he could muster was a sense of heavy resignation. For whatever reason, he couldn’t get rid of Seth. And he had a suspicion that if he went back to just ignoring the ghost, he’d end up with more than just a broken mug. That left Lyor with only one choice: acceptance.

“Okay,” he relented, and Seth raised an eyebrow. “You can stay, and we’ll...we’ll try to figure this out.” Seth relaxed into a grateful smile, but Lyor’s expression remained stony. “But we’re going to be doing things my way. Just because I’m stuck with you, doesn’t mean I’m going to be catering to you, got it?”

“Fine, whatever,” Seth shrugged. Then, more sincerely, “Thank you, Lyor.”

Lyor rolled his shoulders, trying to ease out the muscle cramps. He felt filthy, with nightmare sweat and day old clothes clinging to his back, and he still hadn’t woken up properly. He needed a shower. He told Seth what he was doing; Seth just nodded in reply, but there was a glimmer of gratitude in his eyes- he must have enjoyed the acknowledgment that he was actually in the room.

Lyor showered quickly, not liking the idea of leaving Seth alone to nose through all his stuff, but he did take the time to properly gel his hair back today- he wasn’t going to go around looking like a tramp in front of anyone, ghost or not. When he returned to the living room, still giving his hair one last pat down, Seth glanced over at him from where he was huddled on the couch. Lyor wasn’t sure if ghosts could get tired, but Seth looked- no, not exhausted. Shell shocked. Apparently, the realisation that he was dead took longer than a day to get over.

Lyor watched Seth sulk for a few minutes, before speaking up. “You’re quiet.”

Seth gave a sluggish half shrug. “...I figured you don’t really want to talk to me.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, Lyor reflected. “Didn’t stop you trying yesterday.”

“I had to prove to you I was real yesterday. Wasn’t really feeling patient,” Seth explained.’ “But, I’ve convinced you now, so...I can stand waiting for you to be cool with me. But since we’re talking...” Seth narrowed his eyes at the t shirt and jeans Lyor had on. “Why aren’t we at the White House?”

“Took the day off. Said I was feeling sick,” Lyor replied, and he smirked a little. “Said I might have some kind of parasite.”

Seth rolled his eyes.

“Let me ask you a question,” Lyor said, gesturing over to the chip on the wall where the mug had hit. “How did you manage that?”

“I had no idea that was going to happen ‘til it did,” Seth admitted. “I have no clue.”

Lyor eyed the mark critically. It was a big step up, going from being able to touch anything to hurling mugs at walls. He felt himself relax minutely as he let his mind get to work- all of this was easier to deal with if he had some puzzle to turn over in his brain. This was what he was good at.

“Something changed. It’s as if you’re stronger now.” Lyor pursed his lips thoughtfully. “Can you still pass through things at all?”

Seth grimaced, but he reluctantly pressed his hand against the coffee table. One second passed, then another, where his hand simply lay firmly against the wood, but then, finally, he melted through. Seth yanked his hand back with a jerk.

“It’s like I have to think about it now,” he said slowly. “It just happened, before.”

Despite himself, Lyor felt a sense of giddy excitement rush up within him. How many people would get the opportunity to experiment with the corporeal nature of a ghost? He leapt up and went to stand in front of Seth.

“Try it now,” he tapped his chest.

Seth looked dubious, but with an encouraging noise from Lyor, stood and placed his hand atop Lyor’s chest. Lyor buckled down on the automatic flinch, and clenched his jaw as he watched Seth’s cold, clammy hand sink through him.

“Good,” he stepped back. “You won’t be scaring people into cardiac arrest by bumping into them.”

He was about to broach the possibility of this ability to be corporeal wearing off eventually, when Seth, abruptly, lifted up his arm- outstretched towards the front door, fingers tensed, face locked in a look of near constipation.

“What are you doing?” Lyor asked exasperatedly.

Seth curled his fingers into a fist. “I made the door slam last night, without touching it. I want to see if I can do it again.”

So, Seth was still remarkably easy to laugh at. Good to know that some things never changed. “You’re not a Jedi, Seth.” But he still watched the door with interest. A full minute passed, but the door handle remained stubbornly motionless. Lyor chuckled under his breath as Seth defeatedly dropped his arm.

“None of this makes any sense!” he exclaimed, starting to pace about the room as Lyor reclaimed the couch. “There must have been something different about last night....” Seth’s fists were clenched in frustration, and he paused mid step, looking down at them thoughtfully.

“...I was pissed.”

Lyor raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “You were angry that entire day, as I recall. When you weren’t depressed.”

Seth shook his head. “Not like that. That was...I’ve never been that angry in my life. Not even just angry- I was so frustrated, and miserable, and- and scared...” He rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, and Lyor dropped his eyes, feeling a delicate twinge of guilt that he immediately squashed down.

“I felt like I was about to explode from it all.” Seth mumbled.

Lyor tilted his head, piecing together what Seth was getting at. “So, you’re saying it’s linked to your emotions?”

“That’s my best guess, yeah.”

“You’re not that upset now, though,” Lyor pointed out, indicating Seth’s arm, which had fallen to rest comfortably on the back of a dining table chair. It was acting just like any arm should, completely solid.

“...Maybe,” he wondered out loud, “becoming more corporeal is just a...natural evolution. Your emotional state last night just gave you the boost you needed to break through.”

Seth nodded along. “But telekinesis requires that level of emotion constantly. I see what you mean. That makes sense, I guess.”

Lyor pulled out his phone to scroll through his news feed. Seth sunk experimentally into the chair, propping his chin on the back of it as he stared off into space. He was so quiet, Lyor was able to ignore him for a few minutes, until he finally spoke up again. “Do you think-“ he cut himself off. Lyor didn’t look up, but he stopped scrolling.

“Do you think, if I can get stronger.....other people will be able to see me?” Seth’s voice was small, but laden with such desperate hope that Lyor wanted to recoil.

“Maybe. Hopefully,” he said as he started scrolling again, deliberately harsh so Seth wouldn’t hear the emotion in his tone. “Then you can be someone else’s problem.”

Seth’s face dropped. “Right.”

The hours passed slowly. Lyor wrote emails. Seth explored the living room. Lyor sent an attempt at a reassuring reply to the 11 worried messages Kendra had left him. Seth went through his video game collection. Lyor reluctantly made himself toast, and glared warningly at Seth when he strayed too close to his bedroom.

It was curious, how well behaved Seth was being that day. He was abiding by all of Lyor’s rules, and seemed content to keep his mouth shut when Lyor made it clear he didn’t want to deal with him. It was almost hard to believe that this was the same guy who had kept pestering him with questions until he was screamed into silence the day before, or who threw a cup at a wall when he was being ignored. Lyor found the fact that he wasn’t able to understand Seth more than a little disconcerting, and he stared intently at the man until he noticed.

“Why’d you leave?” he asked abruptly.

Seth startled from where he was fiddling with Lyor’s PS4 controller on the floor, clearly not expecting that. “Huh?”

“You ignored what I wanted all the time yesterday. You never stopped talking when I told you to, or left me alone,” Lyor said between bites of toast. “But, this morning, when I told you to leave, you didn’t even argue. You just did it. Why?”

Seth ducked his head, tracing the joystick with his thumb as he considered his answer. “I guess I wasn’t really paying attention to you before, y’know? I just needed you to believe me, and I didn’t care how I got you to do that.” He looked up at Lyor through his lashes. “But then, when you realised I was real....You had this look on your face, man.” He shook his head, troubled reflection darkening his eyes. “You looked...you looked broken. And I didn’t want to be the cause of that.”

Broken. Lyor stared down at his half eaten piece of toast. His appetite had vanished.

2:30 crept steadily closer, and when Lyor couldn’t put it off for any longer, he forced himself to start getting ready to leave. Seth had sensed that Lyor had been put off by their last conversation and had avoided engaging him, but all the movement drew his attention.

“Where are we going?” Seth asked, looking up from where he’d been slumped at the table, entertaining himself by phasing his hand in and out of the wooden surface.

“Therapy,” Lyor said shortly, tugging on his shoes. “But this is not a ‘we’ situation. You’re not coming.”

Seth did the best approximation of a sigh that he could muster without being able to breathe. “I don’t really have much of a choice. I have to be where you are, remember?”

Lyor suppressed a groan. “You could get a few streets away, right?”

“Yeah-“

“Then you’ll be able to wait outside.”

“Fine,” Seth muttered as Lyor snagged his keys. He eyed Lyor curiously. “Why are you going to therapy anyway? Doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”

Lyor ignored him.

“...I mean, it’s a good thing. You’re seeking help. It’s healthy to acknowledge when you’re not coping-“

“Oh, I’m coping just fine,” Lyor snapped impatiently. He didn’t want Seth getting the wrong impression. At most, he needed medication to settle some mild anxiety. That didn’t mean he needed to be talking through his feelings with anyone. “It’s the President who thinks I need therapy.”

Seth frowned. “Why does the President think-?”

Lyor held up a hand. “Okay, you’ve hit your question quota for the day. I’ve had enough of you.” Seth scowled, but fell silent as they made their way to Dr Penfold’s practice, only making an occasional comment that Lyor could ignore. True to his word, Seth loitered in the waiting room as Lyor went in, watching him go with a scrutinising gaze.

“Lyor, hello,” Dr Penfold greeted him with a jovial smile, gesturing towards the couch. Lyor had barely sat down when he started speaking again. “I was surprised to see that you booked another appointment so early. Did something happen?”

The image of Seth, waiting on the other side of the door, flashed through his mind. “No, not really.”

Penfold gave him a knowing look, the one he always used when trying to sniff out Lyor’s bullshit. “My receptionist said you sounded a bit panicked.”

Once again, Lyor cursed himself for ever making that phone call in the first place. “Right. I...was slightly worked up, ah, because I...had...a panic attack.”

“You’ve had panic attacks before,” Dr Penfold probed, leaning forward. He looked dubious. “What was different about this one?”

Lyor shifted uncomfortably, shrugging slightly. “Nothing in particular. It just made me realise that I want to get a handle on this as soon as possible. I-“ he balled his hands into fists agitatedly. “I can’t be having panic attacks at work. I need to be on that medication we talked about.”

He couldn’t risk anybody getting suspicious about what was going on with him. Even if he knew Seth was real, his coworkers- people who already thought he was mentally unstable- might not be so easily convinced. And having a breakdown at work would be just the kind of thing that would raise their alarms.

A smile was playing on Penfold’s lips, one that Lyor didn’t like the look of. “Hmm. And, let me guess- as soon as I give you that prescription, you’re going to consider yourself cured?”

Lyor tensed, smile fixed even as he realised this was not going his way. “Why not?”

Penfold sighed through his nose, straightening in his chair. “Lyor, I agreed to see you on one of my days off. And I did it happily, because I saw that you were taking initiative by calling me, and actively seeking to help yourself. And I do truly want to help you, but to do that, I need you to stop shutting yourself down and admit that you’re not fine.”

“I am! I’m asking for help,” Lyor exclaimed, gaping disbelievingly, but Penfold was already shaking his head.

“You’re asking for an easy fix. I do believe that medication could be extremely beneficial for you, but you need more than that. You need to address your mental state, your emotional well-being. Until you do that, medication is just going to be a band-aid solution- the underlying problem will still be there.” He narrowed his eyes as Lyor scoffed.

“I’ve had patients like you before,” he continued sharply, “who waste both our time by ignoring everything I say and not treating this with good faith. I don’t tolerate it from them, and I won’t tolerate it from you.” His tone eased slightly, and he spread his hands placatingly. “I know that opening up is hard for you, and I respect that, so I will give you time, but I am letting you know this now- it is not my practice to take money from people if they’re going to completely disregard everything I tell them. If you’re only coming here as a pretence for the sake of your boss, or to get a prescription, then I’m not going to encourage that. I only want you here if you are genuinely open to receiving help.”

Lyor’s lip curled into a vicious sneer in an effort to disguise the hopelessness welling up inside him. His whole life since Taurasi had been ripped from his control, from work, to therapy, to being saddled with a goddamn ghost. He didn’t even have a say in his body’s physiological responses, and now he couldn’t even control how he got to deal with those. He’d had enough. If Penfold wasn’t going to give him what he needed, then he would just figure it out himself. He stood abruptly.

“Well, I didn’t come here to be lectured, so...” Lyor marched towards the door. “Have a good day,” he threw snidely over his shoulder.

“Will I be seeing you next week?” Penfold called placidly. Lyor swung the door shut in reply. Seth was still standing by the window, but he looked up in surprise when he heard Lyor storming out.

“That was quick,” he said disinterestedly. Lyor whipped past him, feet furiously slapping the pavement as he spilled out onto the street. He didn’t bother looking back for Seth, but he knew the ghost was there- of course, of course he was there- when his voice grated on Lyor’s ears.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“Shut up, Seth!” Lyor exploded, and two women passing him on the street squeaked in alarm. One of them seemed to recognise the building he’d just come out of, casting him a sideways, pitying look, and Lyor’s face burned. Great, now people thought he was some babbling, delusional invalid. He hunched his shoulders, speeding forward, stewing in a storm of mutinous musings all the way home. Seth didn’t open his mouth once, just kept shooting him concerned little glances.

Lyor couldn’t believe the irony- he was being pitied by a ghost. Seth’s earlier words rattled around his brain.

“ _You looked broken_.”

Resentment coated the back of his throat, bitter as bile, as he remembered it. His mutinous fuming swelled inside him as he thought about what Penfold said, and Kendra’s coddling, and Aaron’s belittling, and the President’s condescension. All of them thought they knew best, but none of them had anything close to the right idea.

A dissenting thought tickled the back of his mind, whispering that if everyone in his life- even Seth- could see that he wasn’t okay, then maybe they were onto something, but Lyor pushed it away viciously. He wasn’t crazy, he wasn’t hallucinating or anything. He just had panic attacks and nightmares sometimes. It wasn’t a big deal.

He was fine. He was fine. He was fine.

He had to be fine.


	7. Pieces of the People We Love

Aaron looked exhausted. It was one of the first things Seth noticed when he and Lyor went back into the White House the next day. More than exhausted, really- he’d never looked like he’d had a full night’s sleep in all the years Seth had known him, but now he seemed almost a faded imitation of himself. Everyone did, Seth noticed as he watched that day’s morning brief- feeling distinctly like a diabetic outside a candy store as he watched his coworkers in action without him- but Aaron seemed the worst.

Three guesses as to why, Seth thought sourly as he watched the back of Lyor’s viciously bobbing head as he explained something to the President. He was already exhausted from putting up with Lyor for two days- he couldn’t imagine trying to wrangle the guy for twelve whole weeks, not in the state he was in now. Lyor seemed to be stuck as the embodiment of a bad mood. It had only gotten worse after whatever had gone down in his therapy session yesterday, leaving him stewing in sullen silence for the rest of the day, and now Seth was grateful to be back in the White House, for a distraction if nothing else.

Seth swallowed down the pain that rose up as he drank in the faces of Aaron, and Kendra, and the President, knowing that they had no idea he was there. He still got to see them- for now, that would have to be enough.

The morning brief dwindled to an end, the President sending them off with a lacklustre smile, and Seth reluctantly got his feet moving. He stayed a few paces back, not wanting to have to force himself to remain incorporeal. It wasn’t an effort, exactly, but the craving for bodily contact- even just the bumping of shoulders- was almost too much to handle, so it was better to remove the temptation altogether. From where he was walking behind the others, Seth spied the subtle way Kendra’s fingers found Lyor’s elbow, her eyes probing as she looked up at him, and the way Lyor brushed her off with a taciturn half-smile. Kendra seemed to get the message, and she split off from the rest of them without complaint, but her touch lingered for a beat before she walked away, giving Lyor’s arm a light squeeze.

That was....interesting, but Seth’s attention was quickly turned away as he saw Aaron pull Lyor into an empty office. Lyor’s eyebrow twitched querulously, and Seth winced. With the state Lyor was in, and the friction that had always been palpable between him and Aaron, this could go nuclear fast.

“Hey, we need to talk,” Aaron started, and Lyor whipped up an interrupting hand.

“I have rescheduled all the meetings I missed, I had those correspondences with Grayson and Leeds taken care of already, and Carson caught me up on yesterday’s presser,” he listed out in one breath. At Aaron’s deadpan stare, he smirked a little. “Oh, I’m just preempting all the things you were going to claim I’m behind on after missing work yesterday. Saves time.”

Aaron frowned. “I wasn’t going to-“ his gaze caught on the blinding white of the bandage wrapped around Lyor’s palm, eyes creasing with concern. “What happened to your hand?”

“Cut myself shaving,” came Lyor’s flippant reply as he stuffed his hand out of sight into his pocket. Seth rolled his eyes on Aaron’s behalf- one of the perks of being dead: he could afford to be unprofessional. Lyor seemed to see, but took no notice.

“I wasn’t going to tell you off for missing work,” Aaron continued, unperturbed.

“Really?” Lyor arched an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been on my back about everything else lately.”

Aaron gave a grimace, one that Seth recognised as his ‘Lyor is being an ass’ face. “Okay, look, I don’t care that you were off sick.” Aaron explained in a rush before Lyor could interrupt him again. “I wanted to ask you if you need time off. Real time.”

Lyor pivoted towards the door with a snort. “Taking a day doesn’t make me incapable of working, Aaron. You’re really scraping the bottom of the barrel for excuses to get me out of here, aren’t you?”

“Christ, Lyor, why is it always a battle with you?” Aaron burst out. He snagged Lyor’s arm and spun him back around to stop him from leaving, and Lyor stiffened, gaze dropping woodenly to the hand encircling his forearm. Aaron let go with a sigh.

“Look, it’s not just yesterday. You’ve been more high strung than usual, especially with the press, you came in late yesterday, and Kendra told me how strangely you were acting last night.”

Before, Lyor had been vibrating with fractiousness, and perhaps a hint of smugness at getting a rise out of Aaron, but at those words, he faltered, shooting Seth a nearly imperceptible look of alarm. There was more than that, though. At the mention of Kendra’s name, Lyor’s lips thinned. He looked genuinely hurt, Seth realised, to find out that Kendra had been talking about him with Aaron of all people.

“She’s concerned,” Aaron pressed on, reading the tension on Lyor’s face. “And so am I, even if you’re apparently incapable of believing that.” His voice dropped, eyes softening. “I don’t want you working yourself into the ground again.”

Lyor rallied himself, momentary vulnerability sliding from his face and being replaced with a look of familiar, snide recalcitrance. He opened his mouth, ready with a spitfire response on the tip of his tongue, but Seth shot him a warning look. “Do you really want to draw more attention to yourself right now?” he hissed, keeping his voice low and conspiratorial out of instinct, even though nobody else could hear him.

Lyor carefully kept his eyes from shifting to Seth’s face, but he rolled his shoulders defeatedly, shaping his features into something appropriately contrite. “I’ve had a lot on my mind recently,” he acquiesced. “But I’m fine.”

Aaron didn’t look convinced, but he gave a terse nod. “Just don’t make me force you into leave, okay?” He pulled back, tossing a glance out the door to the frenzied commotion of the White House outside of their insulated room. “Kendra started vetting Keith Schuler. It’s going smoothly,” he said.

Lyor nodded wordlessly.

“He should be starting in a few weeks.”

“I know, Aaron.”

“I’m just saying,” Aaron continued, rubbing his jaw. “I’ve been making allowances for you because I know how hard these last few months have been- no,” he held up a hand before Lyor could protest, “I have been, Lyor, and you know it. I don’t know what kind of boss Schuler is going to be, but I can imagine he won’t be as lenient. So try not to be too antagonistic.”

Lyor took that as his cue to exit, and after a tight nod he was out the door like a shot, but Seth lingered back a second. His eyes traced his friend’s features, from the new frown lines to the inky under-eye shadows weighing down his cheeks. It was clear now, from looking at the change marking Aaron’s face, that time really had passed. It was still something Seth was having trouble wrapping his head around.

“Sorry about him,” Seth said with a shrug and a grin, though he wasn’t completely joking. A sense of responsibility had been weighing on his shoulders, ever since that first night where he’d found Lyor shrieking and in near tears in his bed, and the way he’d had a panic attack just at the sight of Seth. It didn’t take a genius to put together the pieces- Lyor was traumatised after seeing him die, and that had made him a difficult person to be around.

Back when Seth was alive, and Lyor was just annoying in a way that was easy to laugh at, this would have gone differently. Seth would have apologised with irony and an eye roll- if he was feeling particularly crude, he might have mimed a gun to his head. And Aaron would have chuckled, clapped him on the shoulder and shared that boyish grin he usually kept hidden at work. Not today though. Today, Seth apologised and Aaron didn’t even know it.

It still felt like only four days since Seth last saw him, but god, he missed Aaron so much it hurt.

His fingers twitched treacherously. He could reach out and clasp Aaron’s arm, let his flesh meet with solid flesh. He could toss chairs across the room and make a mess. He could pick up a pen and write out a message, let the entire White House know he was still here. It would be so easy.

Seth skimmed a gentle finger across Aaron’s shoulder. The other man shivered as he strode away, unknowing, and Seth’s hand remained frozen in place, grasping phantom flesh.

Lyor was able to see him, but even his first reaction, after the shock had worn off, had been revulsion. Seth wondered what everyone else’s reactions would be to him- an invisible presence claiming to be their friend, causing trouble. A poltergeist.

Probably fear.

He dropped his hand. He didn’t want it like that. If he was going to reveal himself he wanted to do it properly, appearing the way he did to Lyor. He owed his friends that much. Seth just had to wait, build his strength, figure out how to do it.

Aaron made his way out into the corridor, and Seth went to follow him when, with a familiar, gut-wrenching jerk, he found himself stumbling to a halt in front of a faintly surprised looking Lyor. Seth glanced around, disoriented- they were practically on the other side of the White House. Seth’s ridiculous tether mustn’t have been long enough.

Seth scowled. “I hate this.”

“I’m not going to be waiting for you to keep up,” Lyor warned under his breath, before straightening up as two Senators entered the meeting room.

Seth’s thoughts drifted back to Aaron- he wished he was back with him right then. “You should go easier on Aaron,” he muttered. “He’s just trying to help.”

Lyor didn’t respond. Seth sighed- he didn’t know what he’d expected. Lyor wasn’t going to be carrying on conversations with him where other people could see. He contemplated staying and watching this meeting play out, but a spike of resentment forced him to his feet. Just because he could only keep a certain distance between him and Lyor, didn’t mean he had to constantly stick by his side like a wallflower child.

A better use of his time, Seth decided as he drifted out of the room, was to figure out exactly how far he could get on his own. If Lyor wanted to be an asshole, fine- Seth would spend his time in the White House elsewhere.

He started walking, tracing the familiar paths of the West Wing that he’d walked so many time, on so many mornings just like this. The whole building was thrumming with vibrant life- the beating heart of America- so blazingly alive that it was easy to pretend, even for just a minute, that he was as well.

Seth found himself in the break room. It was exactly the same as he remembered it- shitty, faulty vending machines, stained carpet, and even the ugly yellow mug that he’d once dropped on his foot in a half-asleep haze, which had certainly helped to wake him up. It still had a little chip on the rim. Seth had to smile.

He continued on. He was just rounding the bend to Aaron’s office when he was yanked back to Lyor’s side. The man, impressively, didn’t miss a beat in his sentence, but once the Senators were distracted by talking amongst themselves, Lyor glared daggers at him. Seth just shrugged apologetically and headed out again.

This process repeated itself as Seth tested his boundaries. He figured out, after several failed attempts at reaching Aaron’s office, that he could get approximately 563 steps away from Lyor in any directions before he reached the end of his tether. He could make it to Kendra’s office just fine, though, and he sat and watched her work for nearly an hour. He tried not to feel too creepy about it.

He quite liked Kendra Daynes, Seth decided as he sat on the arm of her couch, watching her as she worked at her computer and filled out some documents simultaneously. They had always been friendly, but never quite friends- at least, not outside of work. Seth had always sort of taken her for granted. He regretted that sorely now, as he thought about it. She had always been kind to him, especially when he was dating- or trying to date- Emily, and she had a sense of humour that Seth could appreciate. He reckoned he would have quite enjoyed getting to know her better.

Too late for that now, though. That thought made Seth’s heart ache, so he tried to focus on something else. Kendra had the tip of her pen balanced precariously between her teeth, absentmindedly chewing it as she glared down at the paper in front of her. It was a surprisingly bad habit that Seth had never seen her indulge in before- it must be something she made sure she only did in private. It was endearing, in an odd way, but it also reminded Seth of how much he was intruding. He left her be.

Seth knew exactly where he was going next. He made his way down the familiar corridors, bypassing Emily’s vacant office with a drag in his step and his heart in his throat, and kept heading straight until he reached his intended destination: the Press Room.

Seth’s footsteps ground to a halt as he entered the room. It was empty for the moment- reporters would be coming back later that afternoon- so for now, he could enjoy it in peace. Not that he’d gotten much enjoyment out of this room in the past- or peace, for that matter. The Press Room had always been a veritable war zone, hosting the battle between freedom of the press and the private workings of the government, and Seth was the poor sucker who got caught in between. He was pretty sure he hadn’t gotten a decent night’s sleep since agreeing to take this job, but still....

Seth slowly approached the podium, took his familiar stance to look out across the room, let his hands solidify against the cool, firm wood as he gripped the sides.

This job, as miserable as it made him sometimes, had meant something. It had been a symbol. It had shown the whole world that in the end, damnit, he had been able to make something of himself. Little Seth Wright: schoolyard punching bag-turned-college student with dreams too big for his own head-turned-Press Secretary for the President of the United goddamn States of America.  _Look at me now, dad,_ he thought ruefully. _Maybe there’s something here you can be proud of._

Seth felt caught somewhere between a smile and a sob. He left the room.

His feet, unthinking, started to guide him in a direction that he already knew he wasn’t going to reach, and he cursed himself as he accidentally overstepped the boundary he’d figured out for himself. But even as he braced himself for the jolting jump back to Lyor’s side, he continued walking, and Seth realised that the boundary had been shifted. Lyor must have left the conference room. He was probably back in his own office by now. But there was no way in hell Seth was going to return there as well, not when so much more of the building had been opened up to him like this, so Seth continued down his previous path, and didn’t stop until he misted through the door to the President’s office.

The President didn’t even look up as he came in, of course, and that was something Seth was slowly getting used to, but it still felt awkward. The President looked drawn, tight lipped and tired, but that wasn’t much of a surprise. Seth hadn’t seen him look truly happy since his wife’s death.

With a sudden bout of terror, Seth felt distinctly like he was the one being watched, and he glanced wildly about the room. It wasn’t something he’d even thought about before, but now he had to wonder if perhaps Alex Kirkman’s ghost had also returned to haunt the White House. Seth hadn’t noticed any sign of her before dying, and even now, he seemed to be the only spirit in the room. If the First Lady was here, then she was doing a remarkable job of keeping hidden.

Seth frowned; it struck him as all kinds of unfair that he got the chance to come back, and not the President’s wife. Surely she had more that she’d left behind, more that she’d want to stick around for? She had a husband and two children. Seth had nobody, really. Well, there was his family, but Seth wasn’t even haunting them- he was haunting Lyor fucking Boone.

The afterlife, as Seth was quickly working out, made zero sense.

But he hadn’t come here to theorise about the afterlife. He had come here to....Honestly, Seth wasn’t sure. He bit his lip, dropping his gaze from the man sitting at the desk in front of him, feeling uncomfortable. There was something awfully voyeuristic about watching the President like this, even more so than wth Kendra or Aaron. It felt like a gross invasion of privacy, but Seth couldn’t help himself. He was feeling adrift, and the President had always been a steady rock for him to cling to, even if he didn’t like admitting it.

Okay, maybe he did know why he was here, and it wasn’t about taking the opportunity to explore more of the White House.

Seth swung his arms awkwardly at his sides, stuck his hands in his pockets then pulled them out, before finally deciding to take the plunge.

“Hey, sir.” He winced at how high his voice sounded, how unsure. Even more than that, he cringed at how stupid this was, talking to someone who couldn’t hear him, but now that he’d started, Seth couldn’t find it within himself to stop.

“I heard you’re running for re-election- as an Independent! Pre-etty ballsy move.” He gave a little laugh, which morphed into a sigh. “But you’ll pull it off.” And that was possible one of the truest things Seth had ever said- if anybody would be able to do the impossible in politics, it was Tom Kirkman. Seth had no doubt about that.

The President didn’t look up, or even pause from his writing, but he let out a whistling sigh that filled the room. It made for a good backing soundtrack as Seth continued to speak, voice thick.

“I’m sorry I won’t be there,” he murmured, and then paused as his lips twisted unsurely. “I mean... I’ll be there, but not how I should be.” He’ll be a spectre, with as much presence as the shadows on the walls. He tried to be grateful that he could have that at all. It was getting harder to do.

“I always wanted to be able to announce that, y’know? You being _elected_ as the President of the United States. Would have been the best moment of my career.”

Nothing would be better than that- announcing that one the greatest men he’d ever known would continue as President. It’s what Tom Kirkman deserved- hell, it’s what the American people deserved. Not that Seth had always believed that. He laughed, running a hand over his mouth to smother a nostalgic grin.

“You remember the first time we met?” He knew the President wouldn’t answer, but he didn’t need him to. Seth knew there was no way either of them would ever forget that night. “I was just done throwing up in the bathroom, and you were doing the same. And then I...” Seth could feel the phantom heat of his cheeks burning just from the memory. “I started rambling about how Tom Kirkman was going to lead our country into disaster, not realising I was speaking to him.”

Seth shook his head, still grinning. “You don’t know anything about putting your foot in your mouth until you accidentally insult the President pretty much to his face. Man, you could’ve had me fired. Instead, you made me Press Secretary.” He glanced down fondly at the President, still engrossed in his work. “Never thought we’d end up like this, huh?” As those last words slipped out, Seth’s smile dwindled to nothing, and he felt himself grow sober.

“I, uh...” Seth stuttered out, trying to find his grin again. It was gone. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to me now. A-and I know you can’t hear this- you’ll probably never hear this, but....I want you to know that it was all worth it.”

The late nights, the near constant anxiety, the work that sometimes felt akin to shovelling dirt in a landslide, the feelings of emptiness that would sometimes threaten to swallow him when he knew he’d have to relay bad news. All of it, all of it had been worth it. Because through all of that, they had done good.

_Dying_? A little voice in the back of his mind whispered. _Was dying worth it?_

“And...” Seth continued, ignoring the question. It wasn’t one he was prepared to answer yet. “I wanted to thank you. For everything.”

Seth was pretty sure he’d never told the President that- at least, not the way he really meant it. Today was a day of realising bitter regrets, apparently.

Seth shuffled his feet, feeling at a loss now that he’d split his heart out all over the office floor, when the President suddenly looked right up at him, eyes meeting eyes in one electric moment. Seth froze. Even though he knew his heart was cold and still, he swore he could feel it thumping. The President smiled, and please, god, let this be happening. If he could talk to the President, at least, Seth thought this waking nightmare might just be bearable.

“What can I do for you, Wyatt?” the President said, and Seth’s hope blinked out like a smothered candle.

He turned on his heel, marching straight through the President’s aide, who had entered the room and was standing directly behind him, not even caring when the young guy let out a startled yelp. As he stalked into the corridor, he caught a snatch of conversation from the room he left.

“...Are you alright, Wyatt?” That was the President, voice rich with concern.

“Yeah- yes, sir, sorry. I just felt really cold all of a sudden...”

In another time, in a better mood, Seth might have found that funny. At the moment though, everything felt pretty miserable.

Where to now? With a sense of dreary resignation, Seth figured he should probably head back to Lyor. There wasn’t much left of the White House that he could actually get to, and even with how much of a pain Lyor could be, Seth was craving human contact with someone who could interact with him.

Seth had never thought of himself as a needy person, but it was amazing how quickly he’d begun yearning for even a simple exchange of hellos with another human.

He made his way to Lyor’s office quickly, but his pace slowed as he heard the murmur of voices from inside. At least he’d guessed right- Lyor was in his office, along with...was that Kendra? He crept closer, figuring that he’d pushed Lyor’s patience far enough that day with his constant impromptu interruptions, so he tried to stay unobtrusive.

“Does it hurt?” He heard Kendra ask, and as he poked his head around the doorframe, he saw that she had Lyor’s bandaged hand cupped between her own, running a gentle thumb over his palm with a worried frown.

“I’m alright,” Lyor murmured in reply, tipping his head back to peer up at Kendra. He was leaning against his desk, with Kendra standing over him, and it was such a quietly intimate scene that Seth was almost startled by it. He couldn’t imagine Lyor- not even the Lyor from before, and definitely not this new, caustic Lyor- allowing anyone to get him in such a vulnerable position.

“None of this explains what happened the other night,” Kendra sighed. Lyor’s eyes fluttered closed, and Kendra hurried on. “It’s fine, Lyor, if you really don’t want to talk about it. I just- you really had me scared, you know?”

Lyor breathed something Seth couldn’t make out, but his lips seemed to be twitching around the words “I’m sorry.” He ducked his head, staying silent for a few moments as he watched Kendra trace absentminded patterns on his bandaged palm with her thumb.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, and Seth’s eyes widened. He wasn’t really going to-?

“Of course.” Kendra cocked her head, but didn’t cease for even a second her gentle stroking.

“Then you’ll trust me when I tell you that there is something going on that I...can’t talk to you about. You’ll trust that I’m handling it.”

Seth felt a fluttering of relief in his chest. He didn’t want to be revealed- not yet, not like this. His mood wasn’t reflected in Kendra’s face- she was chewing her lip reluctantly, clearly agonised by this- but she eventually nodded.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Just remember that if you ever stop being able to handle... _it_ , I’m here.”

“I know.” Lyor smiled crookedly, looking a little more like his usual self. “So you can stop worrying about me.”

Kendra tutted, eyes fond. “You know I’m always going to worry about you, Lyor.”

Lyor’s face morphed, and it took a moment for Seth to realise that he had kept his smile. But it was different: losing all its sharp edges and softening into something painfully tender. This was the first time in the last three days, Seth realised, that he’d seen Lyor look anything close to happy.

Lyor’s eyes slid from Kendra’s face to Seth’s, and that expression dropped away like wet plaster. In that instant, Seth couldn’t help but hate himself a little. The resentment towards him that Lyor was so intrepid about showing stung, he couldn’t deny that, but what hurt Seth more was knowing that he was the cause of it: that Lyor was so shattered by what happened.

Without a word, Seth slipped out of sight, sidling down the hall. He didn’t know where he was going, and it didn’t really matter, as long as he stayed away for a bit longer. He had taken happiness away from Lyor- he could give him back at least a few minutes of it now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seth had “never thought of himself as a needy person,” proving conclusively that he has the greatest lack of self awareness in the world, second only to Lyor Boone.


	8. Of Fighting and Photo Albums

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are a series of snapshots spanning a couple of weeks, because I need time to pass but I am also lazy.
> 
> Also, this chapter references Judaism and Jewish practices/beliefs. I am not Jewish and am simply basing this off my research. So if I’ve gotten anything wrong, please let me know!

The hardest thing for Seth to get used to was the nights.

He hadn’t expected to miss sleeping as much as he did- it wasn’t really something he got to do much when he was alive, anyway- but Seth really started to gain an appreciation for just how long 24 hours could be when there was nothing to fill the time.

It actually made him grateful for Lyor’s arduous schedule of working until he was swaying on his feet from exhaustion, and then returning home only to shower and sleep. The guy worked more than Seth had, something that he hadn’t thought was humanely possible- Seth barely even saw him eat. But staying at the White House constantly worked well enough for Seth. He didn’t enjoy being there, exactly- everything was a stinging reminder of what he’d lost- but it always served as a distraction from boredom. Boredom led to dwelling, and dwelling led to hopelessness, and Seth didn’t want to spend too long exploring those dark places in his mind.

But for the hours he had to spend cooped up in Lyor’s apartment, Seth had to find some other way of occupying himself. Something other than laying slumped on the couch and listening out for muffled screams from the other side of Lyor’s bedroom door, like he had the first two nights. So, he made do.

Three nights in, and Seth had explored every nook and cranny of Lyor’s apartment, save the bedroom, which he was expressly barred from. The place was like some bizarre hybrid between the home of a seasoned academic and that of a teenage boy with too much money on his hands. He owned shelves full of obscure books on every topic imaginable, some of which were in Italian, Greek, and god knows what else. And then, on the opposite end of the spectrum, a collection of what Seth was pretty sure was every single game console known to man.

Lyor, apparently, was also either ridiculously sentimental or a clinical hoarder- though Seth would put his money on the latter. He found, in dusty boxes on top of his bookshelf, report cards spanning back to middle school years, along with an obnoxiously large collection of academic awards and, to Seth’s delighted amusement, a battered old scriptbook for _The Pirates_ _of Penzance_ , complete with scribbled notes in the margins. Seth hadn’t known all that much about what Lyor was like as a child, but the discovery that he was a theatre kid made a horrifying amount of sense.

Seth thumbed through a 7th grade report card: _Excels in schoolwork. Needs to learn to use kinder words with peers_.

Seth laughed. Some things never change.

It was a swanky little place, really; larger than his own apartment, with a ridiculously plush couch, wide screen TV, and walls thick enough that you couldn’t hear the neighbours’ divorce-in-progress every damn night, but there was something about it that Seth just didn’t like. Even with all these relics from Lyor’s past tucked around everywhere, the whole apartment felt distinctly un-homely. It was the sterility of it all, Seth suspected. Everything was neatly tucked away and untouched, like a display house. No photos either, Seth had noticed.

If he was going to be honest, the whole place was pretty damn depressing.

This morning in particular, Seth was sorting through Lyor’s pantry. The guy had the absolute bare minimum, with, to Seth’s scandalised dismay, no alcohol in sight- how did he function? His musing was interrupted when Lyor shuffled into the living room, already showered and looking like death. Seth glanced at the clock- ridiculously early, again. He wasn’t sure if Lyor was just an inordinately early riser, or if it was because of nightmares. Seth had a sneaking suspicion as to which it was.

Seth didn’t bring it up, already familiar enough with what would result in either a twenty minute tongue lashing or stony silence for the entire day, neither of which he was eager for. Not that Lyor was exactly great company normally.

At least he didn’t ignore Seth- there was always acknowledgement from him, even if it was just a nod, and he would engage in conversation if Seth initiated it, but getting a decent response out of the guy was like pulling teeth. And besides, it was hard to enjoy talking to him when Seth could see how much Lyor hated it- he wasn’t as good at hiding his emotions as he thought he was, and Seth could read the pain written on Lyor’s face every time he paid too much attention to him.

Maybe it was guilt. Seth didn’t know. All this time he’d spent poking around the man’s personal belongings, and he still didn’t have a hope of understanding Lyor.

But four days with only the bare minimum of conversation since that first day when Lyor realised he was real had left Seth desperate, so he took the plunge.

“You really live like this, huh?” he called from the kitchen, gesturing widely to the apartment as a whole. Lyor squinted irritably at him, hands on his hips in that bizarre pose he always struck.

“I...don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. It’s clean, I don’t know what more you want.”

It was certainly clean, as if nobody had disturbed it in years except to occasionally vacuum. The most mess Seth had found were a couple of cups that hadn’t been put away into cupboards.

“Yeah, the cleanliness isn’t what I’m surprised about,” he shrugged, letting the pantry door swing shut. “You’re so damn anal about everything else, I figured you’d be a bit of a clean freak. But this is...next level, dude. This place doesn’t look lived in.”

Lyor sounded utterly disinterested in this line of conversation. “I don’t do a lot of living in it. I work an 80 hour week, or have you forgotten that quickly?”

“So do- did I,” retorted Seth. “But my place isn’t like this.”

Not for the first time, Seth wondered what had happened to his own apartment, and all his stuff inside. He’d asked Lyor, but the other man said he had no idea. Probably all with his family. That was a comforting thought, at least. Although, thinking about that always just lead to Seth ruminating over everything else he’d left behind. All his belongings, yes, but so much more. There was his neighbour, Nicole, a single mum with two sweet kids, who had made him dinner for two weeks after the Capitol bombing when he was too tired and stressed and full of grief to function. There were his friends from Harvard, who he never got enough chances to catch up with. There was the taste of good whiskey rolling down his throat, and the warmth of the sun on his back. There was his family.

No dark places, he reminded himself stubbornly. He forced a grin across his face.

“I’m glad I’m not haunting my own apartment. That place is a shithole.”

Lyor was already halfway out the door. He turned a little, and Seth saw the man’s answering smile, crooked and insincere. “I’m glad death has worked out so conveniently for you,” Lyor deadpanned.

Seth’s grin dimmed. Jokes had been his favourite coping mechanism for as long as he could remember, but they didn’t seem to work as well with Lyor around.

 

* * *

 

In the 3 AM darkness of the apartment, a single lamp glowed. Seth smiled appreciatively as he ran a finger down the cover of _The Lord Of The Rings_ \- Seth’s old favourite, and one of the only decent book Lyor owned. He settled in for what he hoped to be a few hours of solid reading, and got through the first two chapters when the creak of floorboards caused him to look up and lock eyes with a messy haired Lyor.

“You’ve been hiding your good literature from me,” Seth joked, holding up the book.

Lyor squinted blearily, and then apparently decided he wasn’t interested enough to comment. Seth watched him shuffle into the kitchen, and listened to the familiar sounds of tea being made. This was Lyor’s nightly ritual whenever he was struck with insomnia- or at least, that’s what Seth figured, since he hadn’t heard any telltale sounds of night terrors. Which wasn’t much better. Either way, the guy wasn’t sleeping.

That was something Seth had been thinking about more and more lately- just how fucked up Lyor clearly was. It was hard to miss, what with the way Kendra and the President and even Aaron treated him. Seth suspected that something had occurred while he was gone, something that had forced Lyor to go into therapy. But that hadn’t lasted- he hadn’t gone back since that last fateful therapy session, however long ago that was- not that Seth could really tell, but it had definitely been at least a week. And speaking from his own experience in college, therapy sessions for something serious like depression- or in Lyor’s case, what seemed like PTSD- tended to be weekly, at least.

“So......” Seth drawled, “No more therapy?” This was his new, experimental technique for getting Lyor talking: abruptly bringing up whatever was on his mind and hoping it would cause a good reaction.

Lyor came out of the kitchen with a scowl. He managed to make even drinking tea look dark. “Don’t need it anymore.”

“.....Uh huh.”

Seth should leave it. If he’d learnt anything about Lyor, it was that the rest of the night would go much easier if he just left it. He could tell already that this reaction would not be good. But he couldn’t shake his concern, so push it he must.

“Generally speaking,” he started slowly, “when you’re having nightmares every other night, you’re not considered to be completely mentally healthy.”

And there it was- the signature glower. “Well, maybe I should get my therapy from you, since you’re apparently such an expert,” Lyor snapped. “Stop talking about things you know nothing about. Or, better yet, just stop talking altogether.”

Seth considered the merits of chucking a pillow at Lyor’s head. “Is it an effort to be such an asshole all the time, or are you just a natural at it?”

“Shouldn’t you be going easy on me, since I’m so emotionally damaged and fragile?” Lyor shot back. He put his mug down on the table, out of harm’s way, and that made up Seth’s mind. The pillow sailed through the air and made a satisfying thump as it smacked against Lyor’s chest. The man caught it with a withering glare and sent it hurtling right back, but Seth, turning incorporeal, let it sail harmlessly through him with a smug smile. He’d been practicing with his abilities, and it had paid off.

“Cheater,” Lyor muttered.

Seth hugged the pillow to himself. Throwing it, disappointingly, hadn’t helped ease his frustration. “I don’t know if you realise this, Lyor, but being dead? Has actually been a little harder on me.”

Lyor ducked his head, looking surprisingly chastised. As soon as he’d said it, Seth regretted it. What was the point in comparing traumas? Lyor had been stewing in his for a lot longer than Seth had been. And besides, Seth was a lost cause- at least Lyor could actually be helped.

He sighed. “I know you were joking, but....you can talk to me, actually. If you want.”

Lyor laughed, shaking his head “You sound like Kendra.”

“That’s not a bad thing.”

“No, Seth,” Lyor enunciated laboriously, like he was talking to a particularly slow child. “I do not ‘want’ to talk.”

Yeah, no shit. Seth had picked up on that particular vibe. This was probably the longest conversation they’d had since that first day after Lyor started believing him. And, god, wasn’t that a depressing thought? But it was worth a try, and Seth was no quitter. He’d just have to approach this from a different angle.

“Okay, fine. Be like that,” he huffed, stretching back out across the couch and resuming his reading. “I’ll be here.”

Lyor didn’t acknowledge his blatant offer. But he remained seated at the table, hands wrapped tightly around his mug, long after he’d drained the last dregs of tea and the first rays of sunlight began breaking through the curtains, instead of slinking back to his room. Seth didn’t comment, but made sure to rustle the pages of his book every time he turned them, making himself a loud and unmissable presence in the room, as if the noise could chase away the shadows.

They weren’t always lonely, these nights.

 

* * *

 

After so many nights spent in this three room apartment- a week, maybe? Two?- Seth hadn’t expected to find anything new to explore. He curled up in his now signature spot on the couch with the laptop that he’d finally convinced Lyor to unlock for him- he enjoyed reading, but he also liked to change things up a bit sometimes, and Seth figured if he had to be stuck as a ghost with too much free time, he may as well use the opportunity to catch up on Game of Thrones. But as he leaned down to plug in the charger- Lyor would have his head if he drained the battery- he spied an old basket tucked beside the couch, wedged unobtrusively in the darkened space beneath the dresser. He wriggled it out, surprised by how heavy it was, and came face to face with a whole basket full of photo albums.

“Hey, look! There is life in this place after all.” Seth crowed, delighted- there was a disturbing lack of photographs in this apartment, so this felt distinctly like finding buried treasure. From where he was poking at a takeout container of sweet and sour chicken at the table, Lyor glanced up. He watched silently as Seth flipped through the first book he pulled out. It was stuffed full of old photos, black and white; a timeline of the life of two young girls as they grew. As their features matured towards the end of the book, Seth noticed traces of Lyor in them, especially the younger one- the curls, the angle of her nose, the startling blue eyes.

“Those were my mother’s,” Lyor said, confirming Seth’s suspicions. He realised with a jolt that the man had moved to sit on the other side of the couch- still at a cautionary distance, but close enough to be able to see the pages. He seemed most interested in the book Seth now had in his hands, though Seth went through it with mostly disinterest. It was all of Lyor’s mother, sometimes with the older girl from the other album- who Seth guessed was her sister- and further at the end, often with a tall, rather severe looking man who he could identify immediately as Lyor’s father.

But it was in the next album that Lyor showed up, and Seth scanned each page eagerly. Lyor as a little boy was a tiny slip of a thing, all elbows and knees, a stick insect hiding underneath a shock of chestnut curls. He was, Seth had to admit, a pretty adorable kid.

Lyor had smiled a lot, Seth noticed, when he was younger. There was him as a toddler decked out in dinosaur pyjamas, then maybe eight years old, dressed as a pirate with a massive grey parrot sitting on his tiny shoulder, ten years old with a toy rocket presented proudly to the camera, thirteen and standing at his father’s side, both in pressed suits- in every single one, he was sporting a dazzling grin.

Seth turned the page, and his lips quirked into a little smile of his own. There were an array of photos of Lyor wearing some sort of shawl and cap, looking quite solemn for once as he stood reading from a massive scroll. The boy’s smile returned on the next page in pictures of what looked like a party- in some he was being lifted up in the air on a chair, and in others he was dancing with his mother, gazing adoringly up at her from under his fringe.

“Hey,” he held up the photos for Lyor to see. “What’s this about?”

“My Bar Mitzvah.” Lyor answered, and Seth abruptly remembered the time the man told him he was Jewish.

“Huh. You’re even wearing the...little hat?” Seth’s mind pulled a blank. Growing up secular had it’s drawbacks- his religious education was severely lacking.

Lyor snorted. “Kippah.”

Seth peered quizzically down at Lyor’s little face, taut with concentration as he peered down at what must have been the Torah. He looked engrossed- nothing like how Lyor responded to anything remotely religious as an adult. “You look so pious. When did you turn atheist, then?”

“Agnostic,” Lyor corrected derisively. “And probably when I was about seven. I just went along with the Bar Mitzvah to make my mum happy.”

Seth huffed out a laugh. “Just my luck, that I get stuck with an agnostic. If you’d kept your faith, you might know a little more about this afterlife situation.”

The ‘why’ of Seth coming back wasn’t something they’d discussed much, but it was always on the back of his mind. Seth hadn’t really believed in God or any sort of heaven, but his mother had told him enough stories about her supposed paranormal encounters in her youth for him to believe in ghosts. What she had never explained, unfortunately, was why exactly someone got stuck as a ghost in the first place.

Lyor frowned thoughtfully. “I doubt that would have helped,” he said. “Jews don’t really focus on the afterlife as a rule, and we don’t believe in ghosts. Well-“ He furrowed his brow, “most of us don’t. Some people do, but believe that speaking to them is forbidden, I think.” He chuckled a little. “My mother would be praying for my immortal soul if she could see me now.”

Seth kept flipping through, watching Lyor turn from a goofy kid into a stern faced teenager, Lyor’s occasional comments bleeding into a gradual backdrop of steady commentary that had Seth genuinely laughing for the first time since finding out he was dead. It was a nice reminder that Lyor could actually be hilarious when he wanted to be. The man seemed nearly comfortable, Seth realised with warm satisfaction, and even talkative- more like his old self than Seth had seen before. He should have known that bringing up Lyor’s own life would lull the guy into talking- he used to do that endlessly whenever given the opportunity, rambling about being snubbed at space camp when he was ten and whatever else. Seth had never appreciated it before now.

There were plenty of photos of him with his dad. Lyor would always be gazing up at him with hungry, beseeching eyes, even as the older man focused on everything but his own son- and, god, Seth thought bitterly, didn’t that remind him of someone? Lyor never said anything about those.

The photos came to an abrupt end when Lyor looked about fifteen or sixteen, even though there was still a good third of the album left ready to be filled. Seth hurriedly flicked through to the end, just to check, but no, the rest was empty.

“She stopped taking photos after my father died,” Lyor explained, and Seth glanced up, mouth parted in silent sympathy. It seemed clear from those photos that Lyor had loved his dad, and in all the photos he had looked so very _young_. That was no age to lose a father.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Lyor just shrugged. Seth looked at the last photo in the book. It was a family photo- Lyor standing proud next to his father, with his mother on his other side with her hand on his shoulder. Even through the photo, Seth could sense the warmth radiating off her as she gazed at her son.

The way that Lyor had talked about his mum- always in the past tense- and the fact that her possessions were in his home, made Seth’s heart grow heavy. Both parents gone, no siblings, and a wife who he was barely in contact with- Lyor was all alone in the world.

“When did your mum die?” Seth asked hesitantly, and Lyor’s face stilled.

“She hasn’t,” he said shortly, and pulled the book from Seth’s hands.

Seth blinked in surprise as he watched Lyor pack the photo albums away with great care, but the embarrassment of his mistake slowly faded away as the glow of warmth inside him returned. They’d had a conversation- a proper one, without the reluctance that Lyor usually made sure to display. And, sure, it had been cut short by Lyor shutting him out again, but that had been because Seth had brought up his mother, and not because of Seth himself. He should probably feel more guilty about being happy that it was the topic of his mum that caused Lyor to turn taciturn- there was obviously some nerve that he’d touched there- but right then Seth just wanted to enjoy the moment.

This felt like progress.  


	9. Seeing Clearly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same deal as last chapter- more timeskips. By the end of it, we’re about five weeks past when Seth first appeared.
> 
> TW: Referenced homophobia, internalised homophobia/biphobia, use of the ‘q’ slur

“You know, people always talk about ghosts remaining to complete unfinished business,” Seth exclaimed frustratedly. “But how am I supposed to do that if I don’t know what my unfinished business is?”

Days had trickled into nights into tedious days, and all the time had given Seth a lot of space to think. While Lyor worked, Seth wandered- spending his time shadowing Aaron or Kendra or, when he was feeling particularly bored, scaring the interns by moving furniture around while their backs were turned. But while Lyor slept, Seth wondered. In the beginning, he’d focused more on the ‘how’ of being a ghost- how could he get Lyor to believe him, how could he touch objects, how far could he go on his own. But now, as things like being able to float through doors became almost mundane, Seth was starting to question the ‘why.’ And, amazingly, Lyor was been helping.

Getting Lyor to talk had been a slow process. Seth had learnt quickly that the best approach was to steadfastly avoid all topics centred around ‘how Lyor was doing,’ or anything to do with the three months before Seth returned. With everything else, Lyor had seemed to be mellowing, and would take Seth’s bait more and more often. Maybe even Lyor got lonely sometimes. Maybe he missed Seth more than he let on.

Right then, Seth was stood beside him in the kitchen, persevering in his secondary quest of getting Lyor to eat something that took longer than 3 minutes to prepare. Seth had watched with mounting horror as, day after day, Lyor would only eat takeout or toast- and those were on the days that he ate at all. Seth got the temptation of a quick and easy fix, but when there was time, it was worth it to put the effort in. And maybe, just maybe, Seth missed eating and wanted to live vicariously through someone who could.

Convincing him to cook, however, had been more difficult, even, than convincing him to talk. But unlike with talking, Seth had been more than happy to bully him into it. And now, after hours of cajoling, there they were, Lyor sullenly stirring pasta into a pot.

“You must have plenty of unfinished business,” Lyor continued their discussion, twitching a dubious eyebrow. “You died at, what, forty? That isn’t exactly a ripe old age.”

Seth did, in fact, have things he’d wanted to achieve. They’d been put on the back burner since joining the Kirkman Administration, but....he’d always dreamed of starting a family. The regret of leaving that until it was too late sat like a stone in his stomach whenever he thought about it.

Then again, Seth reflected as he remembered the President in the aftermath of his wife’s death, maybe it was good that he’d been unattached. Less to leave behind.

He shrugged as casually as he could. “Yeah, sure, I have things I wanted to do, but coming back as a ghost isn’t going to help me achieve them- no, no, more pepper.”

Lyor stared incredulously at him, and then back at the second saucepan where he was attempting a sauce. “How could it possibly need more-?” At Seth’s insistent nod, he sighed and continued cracking pepper. “Alright, alright. Why did I let you talk me into this?”

“Because the alternative would be letting Kendra force feed you.” Seth said with a grin. The only person who pestered Lyor more about eating that him was Kendra. Lyor grimaced in agreement. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”

Lyor tried a strand of spaghetti and wrinkled his nose, leaving it to cook longer. “You know what I always find to be worth it? Takeout.”

“Heathen.”

Seth watched in silence for a few minutes, only speaking to instruct Lyor in transferring the pasta into the saucepan and adding grated cheese to the mix, until his mind drifted back to their earlier conversation.

“Maybe this is a punishment.”

“It’s certainly a punishment for someone.” Lyor muttered.

“Ha ha.” Lyor’s embittered comments about them being stuck together still cut a little, but Seth had grown a thick skin against the man’s barbs long ago, and he just tried to shake them off as jokes. It was hard to be offended by Lyor at that moment anyway, with his sleeves haphazardly rolled up to his elbows and a smudge of pepper gracing his cheek, looking more affronted by his half cooked spaghetti than he ever had been at Seth.

Lyor turned to face him with the hint of a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. He still didn’t look like he was taking this as seriously as Seth. “What could you be being punished for? Did you commit some terrible crime in your life that I don’t know about?”

“Yeah, you got me, I murdered Abe Leonard and buried him under the Rose Garden.”

“Huh. Always did wonder what happened to him.”

“I’m just saying,” Seth cut in, mellowing back into seriousness even as Lyor sniggered. He knew that he was grasping at straws, but he was desperate for some sort of explanation, and after a lifetime of constantly assuming that he was doing something wrong, it seemed natural to conclude that this was somehow his fault. “If there a God, I mean....I wasn’t a believer. Never went to church or a mosque in my life. Or a synagogue,” he added hurriedly, nodding to Lyor, causing the man to roll his eyes.

Not believing- that was a sin, right? Seth was pretty sure people were supposed to be punished for that. But, to be fair, if he was going off what the Bible said, then there were a few other things he’d gotten wrong as well.

“Y’know, my grandma always did say queers don’t get into heaven.” Seth let out a brittle laugh, and deep in the back of his mind, the long buried shame about being bisexual reared its ugly head. “Maybe she was right.”

Lyor stared at him, long and discerning, and Seth scratched the back of his neck, trying for a disarming grin to dissolve the awkwardness. He pointed to the pan full of pasta, with the cheese and pepper perfectly coalesced into a cacio e pepe sauce.

“And you’re done,” he exclaimed. “See, how easy was that?”

Lyor scowled, wordlessly gesturing at the horrendous mess spread out across the kitchen counter and himself. Seth snorted- he had no clue how Lyor had managed to make such a mess with literally three ingredients.

“This is my favourite pasta,” he rambled as Lyor plated up, following to sit across from him at the table. “It’s real comfort food. My mum always used to make it for me when...”

His smile fell. Sometimes, thinking of his family was like a stab in the gut. There was a tense silence.

Lyor fiddled with his fork. “You’re not being punished, Seth,” he said quietly, and took a bite.

His eyes widened. “Holy shit, this is good,” he mumbled through his mouthful.

Seth managed to smile.

 

* * *

 

Seth traced the hideous, tessellating pattern of mustard and brown on the carpeted halls of Roseanne Retirement Home as he trailed after Lyor. His life- or afterlife, rather- for the last couple of weeks had been a quickly realised exercise in drudgery, and Seth had initially been as excited as a house-dog let out into the yard when he’d realised they weren’t going straight from the White House to the apartment. But as satisfied as he was to discover that work was not the only thing in the guy’s life, he wished that Lyor could have given him a heads up about where they were going first.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to wait outside?” Seth asked for what felt like the millionth time, and Lyor hummed noncommittally into his phone. This was how they spoke when they were in public now. It worked for them both- people wouldn’t think Lyor was talking to himself, and Seth wouldn’t go stir crazy.

“It’s fine. It’s not like she’ll know. Or care,” he said as they stepped into room 313. With trepidation in every step, Seth walked in- and stood stock still as he took in who they were visiting. The curly hair had greyed and become tamed with age, and her face was creased with wrinkles, but those piercing blue eyes were as though they’d been lifted straight from the photo album. Seth would recognise the woman in the bed as Lyor’s mother anywhere.

“Hey, ma,” Lyor greeted, dropping down into a stiff looking armchair beside the bed. Seth remained in the doorway, feeling sorely out of place.

“Oh, hello dearie.” The woman’s smile was genuine, but it held none of the warmth that Seth remembered from the photos. Her eyes glazed over Lyor like he was a stranger, and- oh. That’s what Lyor had meant by “not dead.”

Not dead, but not alive either, not properly.

“Sorry I haven’t come to visit in a while,” Lyor said, squeezing his mum’s hand. She hummed placidly.

“I don’t like this channel,” she announced suddenly, staring at the flickering TV screen in the corner of the room. “I need my show on. I need to watch it before Arthur comes. He’s taking me out.”

“Oh? Where’s he taking you?” Lyor asked as he switched the channel to some soap opera. His lips were thin.

She didn’t answer, just smiled vacantly as she continued to hum some tuneless song. Lyor seemed unsurprised, just resigned, and he shifted forward, gently tugging up the knitted quilt from the bottom of the bed to cover his mum’s bony lap as he began telling her about the children’s spelling bee the President had overseen at the White House the other day. Lyor, in that moment, was all the things he wasn’t supposed to be- soft spoken, gentle, warm- and Seth couldn’t shake the feeling that he was watching something meant to be private. He didn’t say a word, just shuffled backwards through the open door, when Lyor’s mother spoke.

“Would you like to sit down, dearie?”

Seth had been fooled before, so he glanced behind him expectantly, waiting for a nurse to walk through him. But as he turned around, he saw nobody. He swivelled back around- the woman was staring right at him.

“You-“ Seth’s words got stuck in his throat, and he forced them out. “You can see me?”

“Oh, it’s so nice getting so many visitors. It gets lonely in here sometimes.”

Lyor flicked his eyes wildly between the two of them. “She does this, Seth,” he warned. “She speaks to people who aren’t there. Don’t-“

Seth ignored him, approaching the bed as if in a trance, and Lyor’s words died as his mother, with veiny, trembling hands, reached out to grasp Seth’s.

“Are you a friend of Daphne’s?” she asked, and Seth stared at the hand squeezing his. He squeezed back. “I didn’t see you at the wedding.”

Seth opened and closed his mouth a few times in abject shock. Lyor’s eyes were wide.“N-no, Mrs Boone,” he finally stuttered out. “I’m...I’m a friend of your son’s.”

“Oh, my Lyor!” Mrs Boone exclaimed, and there was that smile that Seth recognised, lighting up her face at the mention of her son. “He’s such a sweet little boy. Not many friends- I think he scares the other children away with that big brain of his.”

If Seth could cry, he would have. Instead, he felt his whole body shaking helplessly. Someone else could see him. Someone else could hear him- oh god. He turned to Lyor, gaping with wonderment. The other man had that look on his face- one where he was trying to figure out some riddle. It was a mystery to Seth as well. Was there something about Lyor’s bloodline that had an affinity for communicating with the dead- and wouldn’t that be the height of irony? Or- and Lyor clearly suspected this, from his shadowed eyes- was it that she was close enough to death that the lines between life and what came after had blurred?

But for once, Seth didn’t care about explanations. His mouth felt unused to talking for long, rusted like a creaky hinge, but soon he found himself wrapped up in conversation- Mrs Boone was a chatty woman, even if most of what she said made zero sense. They talked about the nurses at the nursing home, and Arthur- who Seth found out was her husband, and Seth’s own life- he had to repeat himself time and time again, but he didn’t mind. Through it all, Lyor leaned back to watch, interjecting occasionally but mostly just observing with a considering look in his eye.

Seth almost protested when Lyor got up to leave, until he glanced at the clock and realised they’d been there for over two hours. It still didn’t feel like enough time.

Lyor leaned down to press a kiss against his mother’s cheek. “Alright, ma, I’ll see you soon.”

“It was nice meeting you.” Seth murmured, unable to take his eyes off Mrs Boone’s vacantly smiling face.

“So thoughtful,” she mumbled to herself. “Such nice young men coming to visit.”

In the elevator, Lyor made a thoughtful noise. “She really took to you,” he said. “I think she responded to a new face- I’ve basically become part of the furniture to her now.”

“Sorry,” Seth muttered, grimacing guiltily. Now that the euphoria had worn off slightly, he felt the need to apologise, both for taking over the conversation and just for....the whole situation, really. Seth couldn’t imagine his own mum not recognising him.

Lyor shook his head. There was a smile gracing his lips- subtle in how genuine it was- and his eyes were bright with what Seth thought might just be gratitude. Whatever it was, he was definitely looking at Seth differently. Not as a nightmare, or a parasite, or even as some vaguely amusing distraction. He looked at him like he was a person.

“I haven’t seen her speak that much in a while,” Lyor said. “It was good.”

 

* * *

 

The morning was crisp and clear, the sun smiling down on their heads. Seth tried to imagine the warmth of it on his skin. He and Lyor were leaning against an overpass, Lyor glistening with sweat and Seth unruffled as ever, as Lyor took a breather during his morning jog. It was a habit that Lyor had taken up again some days ago, and Seth found that he enjoyed it far more than he’d ever liked exercise when he was alive. Nothing was aching, which was a pleasant change.

These daily jogs had become even more enjoyable since Lyor had started changing up his route. The change in scenery was like a breath of fresh air for Seth’s rotted, empty lungs. It felt almost like a kindness, and Seth had almost thanked him, before realising that Lyor would much more appreciate it going unspoken.

Seth, not needing to catch breath he didn’t have, went right back to what he’d been talking about before they’d stopped for a break. “Maybe this is like a test, before I finally pass on. Maybe I have to prove myself in some way, somehow.”

He was still stuck on this. He would probably always be stuck on this. Seth wasn’t even sure if understanding why he was here would help in any way, but it was something to strive for, so he clung to it.

Lyor swiped at his shining forehead before turning to face Seth. It was early enough in the morning, with barely anyone around, that he felt comfortable speaking to Seth without pretending he was on his phone. Seth never cared when Lyor did that- he was talking, and that was all that mattered.

“Why are you so committed to the idea that there’s some grand meaning behind you being back?” he asked wearily. The exhaustion, Seth knew, was from the line of conversation and not the running. Lyor was deceivingly fit- and Seth had been bringing this up every chance he got.

Lyor continued. “Maybe this is just what happens sometimes. Nothing spiritual about it, just....your mental imprint, lingering for a while.” He pinned Seth down with a sobering stare. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

For the first time, it was Seth who felt reluctant to speak. Lyor looked away, peering out over the roads stretching into a tangled mess below them, but he didn’t keep moving, gave Seth time to find his thoughts. Seth took it, weighing his words carefully on his tongue before, slowly, beginning to speak.

“I want it to,” is what he said. _I need it to_ , is what he meant to say, but that felt too raw.

“It’s like you said,” Seth continued, looking out over the overpass as well, unable to look at Lyor, feeling the empty thoughts that slithered up during those long stretches of night where he had nothing to do but think return again to choke him. “I died for nothing, so....I like to think that all of this could be for something, y’know? I don’t want it to be meaningless as well.”

Sometimes it felt like that’s what Seth had been trying to do his whole life- trying to make it all mean something. First for his father, and then for himself. Working for the President was the closest he’d ever gotten.

Out of the corner of his eye, Seth caught Lyor’s eyes shuttering, the way they always did when he was about to draw into himself, and Seth resigned himself to a silent trip home. But then, Lyor spoke.

“You didn’t die for nothing.”

Seth forced himself to look at Lyor. The other man’s eyes were still stubbornly averted. “You said-“

“I know what I said,” Lyor interrupted him, and his words were slower, more thought out, than anything Seth had ever heard from him before. “I was wrong. You died trying to save people. It was stupid, but...it was good.”

He swallowed, squeezed his eyes shut. “You did everything you could. That’s not nothing.”

_Not nothing_. Seth watched the subtle flexing of Lyor’s knuckles as they tightened on the stone ledge. There had been bitterness in those words he’d spoken, and so, so much tiredness. _You did everything you could_. Seth finally felt like he was starting to understand the man standing next to him. He knew what was going to happen when he spoke his next words, but Seth felt an almost painful urge, a need, to say them.

“So did you,” Seth said, quietly, urgently. “Lyor, you did everything you could. You know...you know I don’t blame you, right? I need to know that you know that.”

Blaming Lyor for his death had honestly never even occurred to Seth, but this guilt on the other man’s part was a suspicion that had been growing within him, and with the way Lyor wasn’t responding, Seth felt more certain than ever.

“And...I need you to not blame yourself. If that’s what this has been about, pushing me away-“

Lyor tried to turn away, and Seth instinctively reached out to snag his wrist. This was important- more important than walking the boundary, more important than Lyor not being angry at him. But Lyor didn’t draw back, or spit venom, or stalk away like Seth expected him to. He just stopped, staring at where their hands met, skin to cold skin.

“I don’t- I can’t-“ he choked out, and shook his head minutely. “Please, Seth. Please.”

Seth let go. Because Lyor was begging, not hurling cool insults. His voice was quiet and desperate and so close to breaking, and Seth had already broken him once before. Because Seth knew now, knew for sure, that guilt was the source of this, and that was something he understood all too well, from the twisting in his gut whenever he saw the tiredness and grief still fresh in his friends’ eyes. He let go, and it felt something like defeat.

He watched Lyor jog away with a furious energy, as if he could outrun his emotions if he went fast enough. Seth didn’t want Lyor to hurt anymore- and he knew that he had been hurting, far more than he’d seen with his own eyes. What he really needed was to get Lyor to talk- and more than just casual conversation- he needed Lyor to open himself up.

But Seth didn’t know how to make that happen.


	10. Roots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced homophobia/biphobia and just general shitty parenting

“Hey.....Can I ask you a favour?”

Lyor languidly rolled his head to face Seth, a smile dangling from his lips. Seth had spent nearly the entire day sitting in on Lyor’s meetings with him instead of...whatever it was he usually did in the White House over the last five weeks, which was curious. What was more unusual, however, was how damn great Lyor was feeling. People were being cooperative, and the policies they were trying to push seemed like they would be going through within the week- Lyor felt distinctly like the cat who got the cream as he watched everything fall into place, practically licking his chops in satisfaction.

He was in an absurdly generous mood, then, as he bounced up to close the door so he and Seth could have some privacy to talk. Lyor couldn’t imagine what Seth could want from him, but he was feeling pretty amiable, so he turned to the ghost with an easy grin and waggling eyebrows. “Shoot.”

Seth didn’t seem to share his enthusiasm, and looked worryingly solemn as he fiddled his thumbs nervously. “I- uh....” He cleared his throat, still looking apprehensive but with a determined set to his jaw as he met Lyor’s gaze.

“I want to go and see my family.”

Lyor barked out a harsh laugh. He couldn’t help it. “No.”

Seth’s face settled into a wide eyed, disarming look that he always used when trying to negotiate with Lyor for conversation, or access to his computer, or whatever else. It wasn’t going to work, not this time. “You wouldn’t have to tell them about me, just-“

“No, no. No way. Not happening,” Lyor said, feeling like he couldn’t stop the jerky shaking of his head. His smile had slackened, his good mood draining away like water sucked down a dirty drain. He had become used to Seth’s constant presence, but the idea of meeting his parents, who were still mourning their dead son- oh god, no.

“I know it’ll be weird, and awkward, and-and awful, but just-“ he could hear Seth still begging, stumbling over his words in barely suppressed desperation, but Lyor wasn’t having it. A sour taste flooded his mouth as he remembered the last confrontation he’d had with the Wright family. As brief as it had been, the memory still made Lyor’s muscles tense with an unshakeable impulse to bolt.

Michael Wright had approached him at the wake. Lyor had only stuck around after the funeral for appearance’s sake, and was at that point numbly sipping a glass of wine somebody had pushed into his hand and fantasising about going home and sleeping for a week. But then this boy- and Lyor could only see him as a boy, what with his wide, wet eyes and clumsily adolescent facade of bravado- had cornered him, leaving him with no escape.

“You’re Lyor Boone,” the boy had said accusingly. “You were with my brother.”

Lyor had just nodded tightly, unsure of how this was going to go. Michael hadn’t seemed to know either, blinking rapidly as he stared him down.

“What happened?” he asked wetly, finally finding his voice, and Lyor’s mouth had gone dry. The boy still looked unsteady and unsure, but Lyor could read fury there too- there was blame written in the tight clench of his fists, his flushed cheeks. He’d wondered if Michael was going to punch him. He’d wondered if people would let him.

He’d plastered on his most plastic commiserating smile, muttered out a breathless “sorry for your loss,” slipped out of the room, and promptly had his first ever panic attack.

Lyor refused to go through that again. Seth would just have to get used to missing his family. He was still mechanically shaking his head, he realised, like a malfunctioning robot. “You can’t ask me to do that,” he said flatly. He flung his office door back open- a clear sign that he wasn’t going to do anymore talking. Seth watched the creaking door with a look of crestfallen betrayal brewing in his eyes.

“I never got to say goodbye.”

Lyor’s eyes slipped closed, and he rested his head wearily against the doorframe as Seth’s ragged voice crackled in his ear.

“You know how often I’d tell myself that I’d find time to go and see them when I was alive?” Seth cried. “And every time, something would come up, and I’d think “Okay, it can wait ‘til later,” because the work comes first, right? He sucked in a flailing approximation of a breath, shaking his head morosely. “There’s no later for me anymore, Lyor. If-if this is supposed to be a second chance, for me to fix what I got wrong in life.....This is my biggest regret. I just want to see them one more time.”

Seth had been trying for defiant, pressing, but his voice wobbled tellingly as he tossed out his last word. “Please.”

Lyor bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to think about the nights he’d sat up with Seth, chasing away nightmares, when he’d seen the ghost’s eyes glaze over, almost seeming to sink into the couch from the heaviness of what was weighing on him. He tried not to remember how, after asking for the date the other day, Seth had whispered, voice like broken glass, that his mum’s birthday was in ten days.

 _Fuck_. Lyor closed the door.

“We’ll go on Sunday,” he relented. “That’s the only time I can afford to take an early day.” At least this would stop Seth from whining about it. His moping could be so irritating.

He went back to his desk, trying not to notice the way Seth was gazing after him, eyes wide and bright and infuriatingly tender.

......

  
Lyor torpedoed down the hall, leaping to catch up with Kendra. The dreaded Sunday had finally arrived, and he was so accustomed to taking the train everywhere that it hadn’t even occurred to Lyor until this moment that public transport would not be ideal for this particular excursion. Seth, who’d been bubbling with anticipation the entire week, would probably be a fountain of conversation on the way to his parents’ house, and while Lyor could theoretically pretend to talk on the phone the entire trip, that charade always made him feel ridiculous. So, a car was the best option, and Kendra was the likeliest candidate to lend him one.

Kendra beamed at him in greeting as he caught up with her, but before she could open her mouth, Lyor burst out: “I need to borrow your car.”

Kendra laughed sardonically, already shaking her head. “And I need a back massage and a three week vacation in the Bahamas, but some things just aren’t possible.” Lyor grimaced- he should have known this would be a battle. Kendra was notoriously protective of her car, and Lyor, notoriously terrible at driving.

“Kendra,” he implored.

She gave a him hard look, curiosity warring with her better instincts until she relented. “Why?”

Lyor twisted his lips. Oh, how he hated explaining himself to people. But beside him, Seth was bouncing on his heels, gazing expectantly at him like a goddamn puppy- and who had thought it was fair to give Seth Wright this sort of power over him?

“I’m going to see Stephen and Naomi Wright,” he said as nonchalantly as he could, hoping Kendra wouldn’t ask any more questions. But, of course, luck wasn’t on his side that day, and Kendra stopped in her tracks, staring at him in unabashed shock.

“Oh. Oh, wow, okay,” she said, frowning thoughtfully. “Does this have something to do with that ‘thing’ going on that you can’t tell me about?”

...Huh. For once Lyor wouldn’t have to lie. That was a pleasant change- he detested lying to Kendra. “Yeah.” Just to sell it, he added, “I thought that it would be helpful to...seek closure. Good for them, too, probably.”

“No, yeah, I agree,” Kendra said, nodding along. “I think it’s a great idea. I...” She gave him a fond smile, and Lyor felt suspiciously warmed. “I’m really proud of you.”

Lyor smiled crookedly, trying to offset the unbearable sincerity of the moment. “You know, I give an excellent back massage as well, if you want more reasons to be impressed by me.” Kendra threw her head back, laughter loud and sparkling as she pressed her car keys into his hand.

“Get my car back in one piece and I’ll think about it,” she purred. She squeezed his hand as she pulled away, and Lyor swallowed.

He nodded in thanks and sped off to the car park. Seth was sending him ear splitting grins every step.

“Hmmmmmm,” he hummed, drawn out and obnoxious. Lyor paused in unlocking Kendra’s car.

“...What?”

“Kendra never lends her car out. To anyone.” Seth said meaningfully, still smiling that sly grin. “She nearly ripped my hand off once just for touching the steering wheel.”

Lyor shrugged, sliding into the front seat. Seth melted into the passenger side. “Maybe she’s in a good mood.”

“Nah,” Seth crooned. “She has a soft spot for you, And you, you like her, don’t you?”

“You’re not a teenage girl, Seth. Stop acting like one,” Lyor said, but he was feeling oddly hot under the collar. It must have been showing on his face, because Seth lit up gleefully.

“Awwww.”

“Shut up!”

Seth cackled the whole way out of the car park.

**—**

Seth couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this anxious.

He’d tried to buoy his mood- he’d teased Lyor about his blatant crush on Kendra until his friend threatened to turn the car around- but as they drew closer and closer to the familiar streets of his parents’ neighbourhood, he could feel his nerves escaping him.

Seth supposed it was fitting. He’d never felt completely comfortable going home.

“Remember, this is a strictly observational visit for you,” Lyor was saying, tapping out an unrelenting rhythm against the steering wheel. It was gratifying to know that Lyor was as nervous as he was. “I’m not doing any seances.”

Seth tried to imagine Lyor and his parents sitting in some circle, cast in a candlelit glow and holding hands as they tried to channel his spirit. He could have laughed, if he didn’t feel slightly sick. “I know.” he said, watching houses whip by outside the window. “I think it’s better this way, actually. It would be too hard, otherwise, to say goodbye, if they knew I was there.” Seth cracked a halfhearted smile. “And my dad would probably have a stroke, so...”

Lyor shot him a sideways glance. “Is that why you haven’t tried communicating with anyone else?”

“Yeah.” Seth worried his teeth into his lip, still disappointed that he couldn’t taste blood. It had been so tempting, some days, to reach out to the others, but...”I don’t want to do this by half. I don’t wanna just be speaking through the Ouija board or whatever, y’know? I want to be there,” Seth watched Lyor’s profile, “like I am with you.”

Lyor gave him an unforgiving stare. “That might not ever happen,” he warned, and Seth looked to his lap, where his hands lay, tightly folded.

“I know.”

The subtle rumble of the engine filled the silence between them as they rolled down the street towards the house, and Seth felt a shroud of numb terror roll over him. He thought he’d known what he wanted, but as they slowed to a stop, Seth realised he wasn’t remotely prepared for this. Grief was an ugly thing, and the thought of seeing his parents wracked by it because of him...

Seth hoped his mum wouldn’t cry- that was his kryptonite. She had always been the one to wipe away his tears as a child, telling him that he should always laugh instead, that it would add ten years to his life. The idea of Naomi Wright crying didn’t fit right in the world. And what what about his dad? Seth couldn’t even begin to imagine how he was handling this. Was he a wreck? Was he furious? Did he even care at all?

Lyor was straightening his tie in the rearview mirror. Seth appreciated the effort. In an odd flash of déjà vu, Seth was reminded of all the times he’d brought a date home to his parents, sitting in the car and urging them to look sharp so as to not fall flat against his parents’ soaring expectations. Maybe in another life, that’s what he and Lyor would be doing today. As bizarre as the idea of him dating Lyor was, Seth suddenly wished desperately that he lived in that universe. At least he wouldn’t have this horrible gnawing hole eating through his stomach.

Actually, no, scratch that. Seth would probably be even more terrified.

“-you ready?” Lyor asked, raising his eyebrows impatiently, and with a jolt, Seth realised he’d asked the question three times already.

“Yeah,” Seth said, tried to sound like he meant it. “Let’s go.”

Seth stared down at the wilting begonias in the garden as Lyor rang the doorbell, but as soon as the door swung open, his eyes were drawn like a magnet to his mother.

His mother.

“Oh, fuck- sorry,” Seth rasped, apologising as a reflex. His mother hated swearing. His face was petrified, as thought it couldn’t decide whether it wanted to laugh or cry. “H-hey, Mum. Hi. Happy birthday.”

She looked far too tired, but her hair was in its typical disarray, pulled into a disastrous bun, and her eyes still crinkled in the same way as she smiled wearily at Lyor. His mother hadn’t changed, Seth realised with relief, and he wondered why he thought she would have at all.

Lyor had his hands gripping his belt so tightly his knuckles were bloodless, but apart from that he was the picture of composure. He smiled tightly. “Mrs Wright, hi, I’m Lyor Boone. We spoke on the phone.”

Naomi was already smiling in welcome. “Oh, hi, sweetheart! Yes, come on in.” She gestured Lyor inside frantically and Lyor shuffled forward, eyes widening in utter befuddlement at being called ‘sweetheart’ less than five seconds into meeting this woman. Maybe Seth should have warned him. His mum could be...a lot.

“Steve’s not home yet. I only just got back myself- oh, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Naomi waffled as she bustled around the sitting room, pacing in a frenzy with no clear goal in mind. Lyor had frozen, and Seth’s mum seemed to sense his panic, because she paused to look him over, resting her bony hands on his shoulders. Lyor had the good grace not to pull back.

“It really is so nice to meet you,” she exclaimed. “I remember now, I saw you at the funeral. We didn’t get a chance to say hello.”

Lyor blanched. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I wasn’t....” he trailed off helplessly. Naomi just shook her head, giving his arms a gentle squeeze.

“It’s alright, honey, I understand,” she said kindly. Then, as if a a switch had been flicked, she bounded back, eyes alight. “Do you want some coffee?”

Lyor blinked. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“Tea, then. I’ll make you a cup of tea,” she nodded firmly. “Good for the soul.” Before Lyor could think to protest, she had wrangled his tea order out of him and disappeared into the kitchen.

Seth made to go after her, but his feet felt cemented to the floor. Being alone with Aaron, or Kendra, or the President was one thing, but he didn’t think he could handle being with his mum and not being able to talk to her, or reach out and hug her. The temptation for touch would be too great, and then everything would go to shit. Besides, Lyor looked like he would bolt if he was left alone for long in this strange house. So, he stayed, wandering instead through the living room as if in a haze. Everything was just as he remembered it. He ran his fingers over a family photo, lingering on Mikey’s face- god, he wished his little brother was here. But he was off at med school, of course. Making Seth proud.

Eventually he plodded back, and Lyor glared at him. “Please tell me your dad isn’t this chipper?”

Seth snorted. “Ha, no. God no.”

“Did you say something, hon?”

They both looked up as Naomi emerged from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of tea.

“Uh, no, I- thank you,” Lyor fumbled as he took the proffered cup. “I was just taking a quick call.”

Naomi tutted as they sat down at the dining table, Seth hovering indecisively between the two of them. “White House business, I suppose. Always something going on over there. Seth was always so busy,” she mused, and Seth flinched. “I hope we aren’t keeping you from anything important?”

“Oh no, I’m very good at delegation.” Lyor smirked. “Which also makes me very good at getting my assistants to hate me.”

Naomi tittered, Lyor seeming to relax a fraction at the sound. “Seth said you were funny,” she shared, smiling fondly, and Lyor’s eyes flicked to him curiously. Seth shrugged- he’d talked to his mum about his coworkers occasionally. When he’d called Lyor “a funny guy,” he hadn’t exactly been referring to his sense of humour, but he supposed the description was apt enough. Lyor could be pretty hilarious in his own way.

They sat and talked for a good hour. Well, Naomi talked, about her work and Mikey and what was happening at the White House at the moment- “How’s that Emily doing?” Naomi asked, and Lyor had choked on his tea. Lyor looked hopelessly out of his element, but Seth only had eyes for his mum, drinking in every word and facial expression. They seemed to be avoiding the topic of his death until his dad got home, and for the first time, Seth was grateful for Stephen Wright’s workaholic tendencies. He’d been apprehensive about this visit, but now that he was here with his mum, Seth wanted to stretch this out for as long as possible.

Eventually though, the jangle of keys sounded in the door, and Stephen walked in. Naomi jumped up with a smile, but Seth and Lyor tensed in unison.

“Hey honey,” Naomi greeted, kissing her husband on the cheek. Lyor stood stiffly, and she waved him over. “This is Lyor Boone,” she said, and then dropped her voice to a near whisper. “ _He’s the one who was with Seth_.”

“Right.” Stephen squinted behind his thick-rimmed glasses, sticking out a hand that Lyor took without hesitation, shaking perhaps a little too hard. “Ah, well, pleasure.” So far, Seth’s father seemed just the same as well, with the same mix of well-groomed civility and awkward aloofness that automatically set Seth on edge.

“You here to tell us what happened, then?” Stephen asked stiffly after a few beats of awkward silence, and Lyor dropped back into his seat in answer.

“Nobody has been able to tell us anything,” Naomi sighed, tugging over a reluctant Stephen to join them at the table. Seth followed, studying his father’s creased face, trying to see if he could read any pain buried in there somewhere. Was it bad that he wanted to find some? “It was all such a mess over there,” Naomi continued. “...You were with him, right? When he died?”

Lyor’s habitual finger tapping started up again, knocking out a pattern on the rim of his empty mug. “Yeah. I’d been searching. For hours,” he clarified, with a defensive edge already colouring his tone. “They, uh, brought him into the triage centre, but he was too- there was...nothing they could do.”

Seth was grateful Lyor had spared them the grisly details. It hadn’t seemed to make much of a difference to his mum, whose eyes had welled up at the words. “He was alive all that time?” she murmured. “Oh, my poor baby. He must have been-“

She shook her head wordlessly. Beside her, Stephen was studiously studying the grain of the tabletop. Seth was having a hard time noticing, though. All he could concentrate on was the sudden phantom pain radiating through his form. There was damp cold seeping between his fingers and toes, the oppressive sun searing his exposed face, the suck of mud as he was pulled out of a pile of wreckage by unfamiliar hands-

Lyor’s face was carefully blank as he continued. “Seth was in a coffee shop and, apparently, he was helping people get onto the roof. He carried some kids up. He was still on the ground, trying to get some other people up, when the wave hit.”

Stephen slowly glanced up at that, face stormy, as Lyor added softly: “He was a hero.”

Naomi snorted out a nasally laugh, swiping at her eyes. “Seth was always like that. Even when he was a kid, all he wanted to do was help. You remember the lizards, Steve?”

Stephen didn’t reply, but Naomi explained anyway, turning her watery eyes back to Lyor. “When he was a little boy, we had a kitten- Shadow- who was always bringing in geckos from the garden. It was dreadful- she’d always be torturing them, pulling off their tails, before killing them. I always wished she’d just eat them and be done with it, but Seth would just cry and cry if we ever let her. He used to scoop them up, gentle as anything- these little lizards, can you imagine?- and put them back outside in the garden.” She sniffled through another laugh. “He was the sweetest soul.”

“He was a damn idiot.”

Stephen’s voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. Seth went very, very still. Somewhere, deep down, a snide voice whispered that he should have expected this.

“Steve!” Naomi gasped, but Seth’s dad was undeterred, setting down his balled up fists on the table with a resounding thump.

“He should have been thinking about his own safety,” he growled. His shoulders were taut and trembling. “Why the hell would he-?” he cut himself off, head shaking limply. I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I-I’m sorry.” He pushed up from the table, disappearing up the stairs in a clatter of thundering footsteps. Lyor watched him go, his eyes slowly sliding to Seth. He wasn’t moving.

 _Way to go_ , Seth’s mind seethed. _Even your death was a fucking disappointment_.

Naomi hovered in an aborted attempt of getting up for several seconds before finally sinking back down, leaving her husband to stew on his own. She turned back to Lyor, grimacing apologetically, and as her gaze softened she reached out to brush his hand. He stiffened.

“I wanted to thank you, Lyor.”

Lyor was stuck in a freeze-frame of shock. Even his breathing stilled. “...Thank me?”

“For being there. I’m glad he had a friend with him when he-he....” Naomi sucked in a stuttering breath. “He wouldn’t have wanted to be on his own.”

Seth squeezed his eyes shut. Through his eyelids he saw a sharp burst of movement, heard the scraping of chair legs against tiles as Lyor asked where the bathroom was. He imagined the way Lyor’s heart must be hammering in his chest, could almost feel it in his own; twin panic.

They fled together, footsteps perfectly in time as they scrambled up the stairs and down the hall as memories banged viciously at the crumbling walls of Seth’s mind. His father was nowhere in sight, and so they took refuge in the bathroom, Lyor slamming the door shut and remaining there, hand fused with the handle, melting against the wood as he blinked long and slow.

“You alright?” Seth asked sluggishly, knowing the real answer, and knowing the response he’d get anyway.

“Yeah.” There was barely a breath between them in this confined space and Lyor twitched, to pull away or draw closer Seth wasn’t sure. He didn’t return the question- Lyor detested redundancy.

Time trickled by, and eventually Lyor’s grip tightened on the handle, exchanging a quick nod with Seth before swinging the door open and emerging into the hall. The blind panic was gone, but the cold still lingered in Seth’s chest, preventing him from returning downstairs. Instead, he studied the upstairs with blue tinged nostalgia. One door, slightly ajar, caught his eye, and Seth moved as in a trance, pushing through into the familiar four walls of his childhood bedroom.

This place had been his safe haven, away from his anxieties, and bullies, and his father’s critical eye. Fitting, then, that he should come back now. The room still rolled with the stench of overwrought teenage angst; suffocating blue walls, his old guitar in the corner, and stacks of Radiohead CDs littering his shelf. Lyor followed Seth in curiously, surveying the room with mirthful interest. He didn’t ask when they should return to his mother, just started thumbing through one of the many ratty notebooks propped up on his old desk.

They were, Seth realised with horrified amusement, his old stories. He had been a voracious writer when he was a child- though as he grew he ventured more into essays and speeches. The stories were definitely the most embarrassing. He didn’t protest as Lyor scanned through them, the man’s lips curving into a smirk as he read passages. It was a relief, being alone with him like this, enjoying the silence. With his parents, being forced to relive that day, it had been too easy to lose himself in memories. When that happened, Seth found himself feeling more and more like a memory as well, drifting apart into clouds of wispy thought and fear.

He felt more real, when he was with Lyor.

Lyor was thoroughly distracted, but Seth caught the flash of white hair out of the corner of his eye as his father poked his head through the door, and he turned back to staring over Lyor’s shoulder, blinking furiously, already tense in anticipation of what was to come.

“He was always writing those,” Stephen murmured, and Lyor nearly dropped the book in surprise, hurriedly slotting it back in its place. “He’d spend hours in his room, just writing. Ever since he could pick up a pen, practically.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” Lyor said stiffly. “I just....I didn’t know Seth that well, really.”

It was true. When Seth was alive, there was always some immovable barrier between the two of them that he had never been able to figure out how to dissolve. Lyor was intimately acquainted with Seth as he was now, but it wasn’t the same. He was, Seth felt, _less_ in death.

Stephen joined Lyor on his other side, Lyor shifting unsurely.

“Look at this,” Seth’s dad smiled, gesturing at Seth’s awards shelf. Awards for academic achievement, first places in writing competitions, debating tournament victories and art prizes- and right in the centre, his framed acceptance letter into Harvard.

“He was such a smart kid, you wouldn’t believe,” Stephen continued. “He could have done anything. Drove me mental when he told me he wanted to be a writer.” He chuckled, shaking his head ruefully. “Didn’t think he could do my head in any more, ‘til he came home from college one day and said he was going to work in politics. I mean, writing is one thing, but for goddamn politicians? No offence,” he added hastily as Lyor snorted.

“None taken,” Lyor said, lips quirking.

Stephen let out a whistling sigh. “I never understood that boy.”

“You never tried to,” Seth whispered back. He was too drained even to be angry at his dad for being so... _him_. But as Stephen continued speaking, there was a softness in his tone that gave Seth pause. His dad spoke, and for the first time in years, Seth listened.

“I....don’t know the moment when I stopped being able to talk to him,” Stephen said quietly. “Probably when he was very young. I was always pushing him, you know? Just pushing, pushing. I thought that if I could get him on the right track, it would bring us closer, but....it just drove him away.”

Seth clenched his jaw- and there it was, that familiar anger. Laughing at his face when he told him his aspirations, telling him he needed to toughen up and not be a pansy after one too many times of being beaten up at school, looking at his little brother with more approval than he’d ever shown Seth- had that been setting him on the right track?

Or- not speaking to him for three whole months after he came out as bisexual? How about that?

Everything else, Seth could let go. But not that- never that. Not when he could still feel the sting of tears while phoning his mum from college after telling everyone. He’d asked, falteringly, if dad wanted to speak to him, and his mum had hesitated for a long moment before apologising, saying that his father was busy with work, maybe next time? Three months of silence and unconvincing excuses, before one day when his dad had called him up as if nothing had ever happened. Seth hadn’t dared to bring his sexuality up. They’d never spoken about it again.

Seth had tried to let it go, because life moves on, and at least they were talking, right? But it had always coloured all their interactions from that day on. Seth could tell from the way his dad looked at him sometimes, that he’d never truly forgotten. Everything else, Seth could let go- he wondered if that was true for his dad as well. Could all of Seth’s other failings been forgiven, if he’d had the decency of being straight?

Stephen ran a hand across his face- a gesture Seth recognised with a jolt as one of his own. “Do you have kids, Lyor?”

Lyor stifled an awkward laugh. “No.”

Stephen’s eyes were bright. “A father is supposed to love his child no matter what,” he said roughly. “Even if he doesn’t understand, even if- “ he sucked in a sharp breath, whispering fiercely. “When your child is hurting, a father is supposed to be there. I never was.”

Lyor looked away, throat bobbing uncomfortably. Seth, on the other hand, couldn’t tear his eyes away from his father.

Stephen reached up under his glasses to swipe at his eyes. “I was proud of him,” he whispered brokenly. “I don’t think he knew that. But I was so proud of him. And I’m so sorry.”

How often had Seth fantasised about a moment like this? Just an apology for the years that he had forced Seth to soak in a brine of shame. An acknowledgement of the damage that he’d caused, even if he hadn’t meant it. To say he was _proud_.

“Why couldn’t you have told me this when I was alive?” Seth burst out. “Why did you never talk to me? Why-?” Seth cut himself off. Even if his dad had tried to talk to him- would he have listened? All these years, Seth could have been having this conversation with his dad, but they never did- because Seth was too damn stubborn. And now they never would.

Seth wanted to hug his dad so badly- his dad who was sorry, his dad who was proud of him, his dad who Seth loved, after everything. His dad, who couldn’t hear him.

“I-I forgive you, okay?” he stammered out, aching in the knowledge that his dad would never know. “I forgive you, dad. I-I love you. Just, please-“ He clutched at Lyor’s sleeve. He needed contact, comfort, something to ground him. “ _Goddamnit,”_ he sobbed _. “_ Please, please hear me. Dad-“

Beneath his desperate touch, Lyor tensed. Seth gripped tighter- a plea.

“I think he knew,” Lyor murmured, not making eye contact, and Stephen nodded as he swiped at his wet eyes. Seth gasped out breathless thank-yous as he leaned heavily against Lyor’s side; seeking replacement warmth.

This would have to be enough.

**—**

They made a hasty retreat after that. Lyor couldn’t take anymore, and Seth didn’t force him- the ghost looked even more drained than he felt. Lyor said awkward goodbyes, artfully dodging Naomi’s offer for him to stay for dinner, and soon they were back on the road. Seth had his cheek pressed against the window as he gazed outside, withdrawn and small-looking.

“So,” Lyor said, eager for the first time to break the silence. “Reconciliation with a distant father. That’s certainly some unfinished business checked off.”

Seth said nothing. Lyor would have thought he’d have been delighted- his father was proud of him, that was a good thing, right? He tried to imagine what that would feel like. It seemed a novelty.

But Seth still looked morose, and it settled on Lyor more heavily than he’d like to admit. Well, if talking wasn’t working, he’d find a different sort of distraction. “Music? I think music, yes. Let’s see here...” There was already a CD in the radio, and Lyor pressed play, only to be assaulted by the opening chords of _Here Comes The Sun_.

Ah, of course. He’d forgotten Kendra’s abominable taste in music.

“I think not,” he deadpanned, fiddling with the stations until something acceptable came on. He hummed along with the chorus of a vaguely familiar song until he was cut off mid line by Seth changing the station.

“Hey, woah, what are you-?”

“You really listen to that?” Seth smirked half heartedly, settling on some basic rock station. Lyor could already feel himself cringing. He survived two verses of- _Kings of Leon_ , Seth, really?- before he broke.

“Okay, I know that you’re very sad right now, but I cannot abide by this. This is going to give me tinnitus.”

He reached over to change the station again, when he felt cold fingers smacking his away, and he scowled. This turned into a five minute battle for control over the radio, until they accidentally turned to a new station neither were aiming for.

“..... _Ohhhhh, my-y love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch_...”

“Oh-“ Lyor’s eyes widened before he clamped down on a hysterical laugh. Perhaps a little tone-deaf, considering there was a ghost sitting next to him.

“Oh god-“ the same realisation dawned on Seth’s face, and his fingers froze over the dial.

“.... _Time goes by so slowly, and time can do so much_....”

Lyor couldn’t stop the snort that slipped out of him. Oh, this was just so ridiculous, and so terribly inappropriate for the moment, that he couldn’t help it. He dared to make eye contact with Seth, who had an incredulous grin etched on his face, and the dam broke, both of them dissolving into fits of wheezing laughter.

By the second verse, Seth was singing along, gasping out the words between peals of laughter. By the end of the song, Seth still had a shadow of pain in his eyes, but he was smiling, and Lyor tried not to think about the warmth of heart stopping relief seeping through his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter hurt to write. Accept your fucking kids, people.
> 
> Also, for anyone who doesn’t get the ‘Unchained Melody’ joke at the end, please do yourselves a favour and watch Ghost (1990).


	11. Disappearances; Reappareances

Odd, how quickly being haunted could start seeming normal.

Of course, Lyor still resented the fact that he was stuck with Seth- of course, he reminded himself as Seth helped him bounce policy ideas around that he couldn’t do with Kendra, or when Seth would make some comment about the reporters that would make him stifle a laugh despite himself, or when he found himself leaving his bedroom door open at night, because seeing Seth moving around helped shift the heavy weight pressing on his chest after nightmares- of course, of course, of course.

Seth was still a grade A annoyance, still a weight tied around his neck. But he was a nuisance that Lyor had become accustomed to. And there was definitely a more positive energy between them after going to see Seth’s parents. Lyor could only assume what he was feeling was pity- Seth really had been robbed of his entire life, that visit had made painfully clear. And if Lyor was going to be stuck with a permanent roommate, he’d prefer one who wasn’t going to spiral into depression because of him.

He hadn’t ignored Seth for a while now, but Lyor figured it was time to go one step further. The best thing for both of them, he figured, was to go back to interacting with him the way he had when Seth was alive. And that meant being a pest.

“Some people say the ghost of Abraham Lincoln haunts the White House,” Lyor said as he held his phone to his chest, still on hold after ten minutes. Luckily, it was a slow day at the White House for once, so he could afford to waste time bothering Seth instead of finding something else that needed doing. His office door was closed- as it perpetually was these days, with the threat of disembowelment hanging over the head of anyone who dared to enter without knocking- giving Lyor ever more free reign to pursue this particular line of interest that had grabbed him.

“Mm,” Seth grunted, his nose buried in Lyor’s laptop. He was engrossed in some news article, because even as a ghost, he insisted on being caught up on things.

“Well?” Lyor prompted. He’d prefer it if Seth was more engrossed in entertaining him.

Seth glanced up distractedly. “Well what?”

Seth, too, seemed to be rapidly acclimatising to this new reality as well. It felt like yesterday that he would be constantly mewling for attention, always accompanied by big, wide, liquid eyes of hurt or moody fits of anger when he was ignored. Now though, Seth had the gall to seem a bit annoyed by Lyor’s interruptions.

Lyor was almost offended by this newfound sense of independence, even if it meant far fewer mugs were being smashed.

“I’m asking if you’ve seen the ghost of Abraham Lincoln,” Lyor asked again, and Seth’s brows furrowed bemusedly, finally paying proper attention. Lyor raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’ll be very annoyed if you’ve been keeping this from me, Seth. I have many questions for him.”

Seth laughed a little, grinning as he went back to reading. “No, I haven’t seen Abraham Lincoln haunting the White House.”

“Shame.”

Lyor hummed thoughtfully, gazing up at the ceiling. “I wonder if you’re automatically able to see other ghosts anyway? Or if there even are others. It’s statistically unlikely, but I suppose it’s possible that you’re the first.” He looked back at Seth, who still had his eyes trained on the screen. “You’d be a metaphysical wonder.”

Seth huffed out a laugh. “I’ve finally reached my greatest aspiration- becoming a scientific anomaly.”

This quickly became habit. Now that looking at Seth didn’t send him to the brink of a panic attack, Lyor had the opportunity to satiate his curiosity with all the questions he had regarding existence as a ghost. Seth, for the most part, seemed willing to accomodate.

“You can’t feel pain, can you?”

“Nope.”

“So it stands to reason that you can’t feel temperature either.”

“That’s right.”

“But you can feel touch? That’s absurd.”

“That’s the strangest thing about all of this for you?”

But casual conversation didn’t suit Lyor for long. He was still so prone to mood swings, and they tended to infect every part of his life- even Seth. Especially Seth. They were home one night, Lyor crashed on the couch and Seth fiddling with the TV remote, and Lyor was broiling in such a mix of exhaustion and frustration with the press that he could feel his tongue getting dangerously loose. So, without thinking, he asked:

“What did it feel like?”

“Hmm?” Seth squinted critically at a dent in the remote’s casing. “I think this is broken.”

Lyor ignored him. “Dying. I’ve always wondered.”

Seth froze. For a brief second, he was a static image, silent and still. Then, with deliberate slowness, he set down the remote on the TV stand.

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

Lyor rolled onto his side to face him, smiling coaxingly. “Oh, come on,” he wheedled. “It’s one of life’s most pressing mysteries. Did your life flash before your eyes?”

“Lyor.” Seth’s voice was flatter than he had ever heard it.

“I can’t imagine it being painful- was it painful? I suppose you wouldn’t have been able to tell, seeing as you were hurting already.”

“Please.”

Lyor turned away, throwing his hands in the air in exasperation. Out of the corner, he could see Seth’s bowed, shadowed face, and it filled him with a vindictive satisfaction. Maybe it was that toxic mixture of tiredness and irritation, but he wanted to push Seth’s buttons the way the ghost always seemed to be pushing his- always asking about Lyor’s _feelings_ , or what had happened before he returned. Lyor felt self-righteously justified in his interrogation.

“You’re always asking me questions- why can’t I?” Lyor bit out. He really shouldn’t be surprised at how quickly this turned into an argument- they’d always been leaping for each other’s throats when Seth was alive. Lyor doggedly pushed on. “I’m just curious. What was it like after, in- what did you call it? Purgatory? Did you realise immediately, that you were dead?”

There was still an irritating alarm going off in his mind, rung out by the definitely-pity that always seemed to surge up whenever Seth went quiet like this. Maybe there wasn’t a justification for these questions- but maybe even on a good day this is how it always would have gone. Lyor had always been curious; he didn’t think he’d ever been kind.

Silence; more silence than Lyor was accustomed to. There was always a barrage of conversation between the two of them nowadays, whether from Seth’s mouth or from his. Seth rarely went for the silent treatment- that was usually Lyor’s preferred weapon of choice. He flopped his head to the side again, impatient and maybe the tiniest bit guilty, but he was met with a gaping hole in his apartment where Seth should have been standing.

“Seth?”

No answer. Lyor pulled himself up and poked his head into the kitchen, his bedroom, even the bathroom- Seth was nowhere to be found. He snorted. The ghost must be sulking outside somewhere.

Maybe he should apologise.

As soon as the thought took form, Lyor shook it off with an inward glare. He had been engaging, he had been doing exactly what Seth wanted. The guy was just being sensitive- he needed to learn to take it as well as he gave it. No- if Seth wanted to be a child, then Lyor wasn’t going to stop him.

In that case, then, Lyor may as well just sleep. No point staying up without Seth to keep him company- and, well, wasn’t that an embarrassing thought? It wasn’t one he particularly wanted to dwell on, so he quickly readied himself for bed and slid under the covers, hoping for a peaceful sleep- they weren’t exactly commonplace for him yet, but Lyor had gone several nights without nightmares over the last few weeks. Maybe tonight he would get lucky again.

But he didn’t- because since when had Lyor ever been lucky?- and he woke up pooled in sweat and with an aching in his chest. These dreams always weighed more heavily in the mornings, when there was no darkness to slither into and hide in. Old terror tightened around his ribs like a metal band; pushing, pressing, prying away air.

Maybe this is what dying felt like.

Lyor cracked his eyes open, turning his head listlessly toward the open door and craning his neck to peer into the living room. There was no movement. He swallowed, and waited for the pressure to ease up on its own. It took longer than usual.

Seth was still missing when he came out of the shower, Lyor realised incredulously. Had he really been skulling around outside the entire night? It’s not like he could have gone far. Lyor snorted derisively as he got ready- that was pretty pathetic, even for Seth.

Seth; a grade A annoyance, a weight tied around his neck, yes- but still, it was strange, not having him constantly at his elbow, or even just pottering around out of the corner of his eye. No mess laying around from a night spent invading Lyor’s privacy, no sarcastic quip about his morning hair, no bright smile of greeting- nothing. Seth’s absence was like a stone in Lyor’s shoe- obtrusive, unable to be ignored, and quickly becoming irritating.

God, this really must be some sort of Stockholm Syndrome for Lyor to be missing him already. But, no, that wasn’t right. Lyor didn’t miss Seth, not at all. _Obviously_. He just wasn’t fond of sudden changes to his routine, and Seth had most certainly become a part of that.

It didn’t really matter, Lyor supposed. Seth could try this ‘running away from home’ charade, but it wasn’t going to last for long, not when Lyor was going to the White House. Seth would be back by his side whether he liked it or not. That tight leash between them had some perks after all.

Lyor gave the sidewalk outside his apartment a cursory glance as he hopped down the steps, expecting to see Seth pouting by the fence, or maybe leaning up against a street lamp. The street was empty. Lyor frowned a little as he turned down his favourite jogging route. Seth must have gone for a proper wander, then. A bit bizarre, but still, it was fine.

Lyor was even more puzzled by the time he finished his run without passing Seth on his way. When he freshened up and hopped on the train to get to work, Lyor began to get worried- surely Seth would have reached the end of his tether by now? And when he finally stepped into the White House with still no sign of Seth by his side, Lyor could fell the first kernels of panic sprouting in his chest.

There were several possibilities floating around his mind, and none of them were good. Maybe Seth had somehow found a way to go further from Lyor than before- maybe the link between them had snapped completely and Seth had taken the opportunity to escape from Lyor and his little apartment and his painful questions. That....hurt, more than Lyor would care to admit, but it wasn’t the worst option, because it still held the possibility that Seth could return. His other idea, though....

Seth had returned out of nowhere, with no warning or explanation. It stood to reason that he could completely disappear the same way.

Lyor sucked in a steadying breath. He was at work. This was neither the time nor the place to freak out about this. It had only been a couple of hours anyway- there was no point in worrying yet. Better to just get through the day, and then when he got home he could regroup and try to figure out what to do- how to fix this. Lyor _had_ to fix this. For now though, he tried to push it out of his mind. It was easy enough to imagine that Seth had simply split off from him and was wandering the West Wing on his own, and Lyor felt a tremulous calm settle over him as he made his way through the halls.

Up ahead, Lyor spied the President, which wasn’t...ideal- Lyor still preferred to have as little contact with his boss as possible, even though Seth lit up every time the man came into the room- but he wasn’t thinking about Seth right now. Instead, he focused on the man standing beside the President. He wasn’t an employee of the White House, but he did look vaguely familiar: tall, russet hair, and what sounded like an obnoxiously loud tone...

Oh _fuck_. Lyor stopped dead in his tracks, unable to stop the groan that escaped him. Keith Schuler. Of all the days for the new Chief of Staff to start, why did it have to be today?

In the split second after seeing the man, Lyor calculated all the possible escape routes he could take if he moved quick enough, but it was too late- the President spotted him and waved him over. Lyor plastered on his most passive aggressive smile as he approached. Schuler returned it, wide and simpering, and Lyor could already feel his hackles rising.

“Lyor! This is Keith Schuler,” the President said, smiling kindly at Lyor. Lyor gave a wan smirk back. The President was still on his overprotective schtick, obviously, and it was as as cloying as ever. At least Lyor had....conveniently forgotten to mention that he had stopped attending therapy, otherwise he would be eve more annoying than usual.

Nowhere near as annoying, however, as Keith Schuler. Lyor squinted at the hand the pompous, ginger little cretin was offering him. He remembered with crystal clarity the moment when he’d caved to Aaron and agreed to approve Schuler as Chief of Staff, and he regretted every second of that decision with excruciating fierceness. At the time, he’d been too close to a breakdown to do anything but acquiesce, and now he was going to pay dearly.

“We’re acquainted,” Lyor said coolly, reluctantly taking the proffered hand. “It’s been a while, Schuler.”

“Five years, right?” Keith grinned toothily. “Wow, time flies, huh?”

It really did. Five years of not having to stare at this man’s smug face was not nearly long enough.

“Be sure to make him feel welcome on his first day,” the President said sunnily, though Lyor could sense the veiled reprimand in his words. Apparently he had picked up on the hostility in Lyor’s posture. He turned to Schuler then, patting him on the back and saying a quick goodbye before heading off to be swallowed by his jam packed Presidential schedule. Leaving Lyor alone to deal with his new- and Lyor shuddered to even think it- boss.

Schuler clapped him on the shoulder as they started walking, and Lyor tried not to wince. “Look at the both of us- in the White House!” the other man exclaimed.

“Observational as ever, I see.”

Schuler seemed completely unfazed by Lyor’s sardonic stinginess. That was a disappointing change. Five years, it seemed, was enough time for the man to grow a decent skin. “I remember us starting out together,” he continued, grinning companionably. It seemed like a wide, stretched out smile was his face’s default setting. “Man, who’d have thought I’d end up being your boss?”

 _Try not to be too antagonistic_ , Aaron had told him. Lyor hid his instinctive bristling, bit his tongue, took a few breaths, turned his words over in his head a couple of times.

“Absolutely no one. This defies logic. But you’ll get used to that around here.”

Well, playing nice was never going to work anyway.

Schuler chuckled, still infuriatingly unbothered. “You always did make me laugh, y’know?”

Lyor did not know- that was certainly news to him. But before he had time to unpack the disingenuousness of that statement, Schuler wrapped an arm around his shoulders and steered him into a relatively unpopulated corridor. Lyor breathed in deeply through his nose, tried not to let his shoulders tense noticeably, tried not to disappear into a fantasy where he could order the Secret Service to throw Schuler out a window.

“Lemme talk to you for a second, Lyor,” Schuler said, still smiling, but voice low and dripping with patronising sympathy as he practically breathed in Lyor’s ear. “I’ve heard you’ve been having a rough time. I wanna go easy on you, ‘cause we go back. But this is the White House, yeah? We can’t let personal trifles get in the way of the work.”

Lyor’s eye twitched. For the first time in his life, he desperately wished that Aaron was here. Partially because after just a minute of experiencing this, Lyor could tell than Aaron was a phenomenally better Chief of Staff, but mostly because if Aaron had heard Keith Schuler refer to Seth’s death as a ‘personal trifle,’ he probably would have laid the guy out.

Schuler sighed regretfully. The sound set Lyor’s teeth on edge. “I don’t want to take drastic measures,” he said, “but...My job is to put the best interests of the President first- whatever that entails.” They stopped, and Schuler turned to Lyor, smiling winningly. “You understand, right?”

Now Lyor had even stronger motivation to put Seth out of his mind for now. He would not give Schuler the satisfaction of seeing him unravel. Instead, he smiled thinly, eyes as cold as chips of ice as he took a step closer to Schuler. He didn’t appreciate being threatened, especially not by some second-rate hack who only wanted him gone because of the history between them.

“Hmm. What I understand is that you’re looking forward to flexing your muscles, now that you’re the biggest kid on the playground,” he sneered. “You have a bone to pick with me, but everything I ever said to you was justified. You know it, I know it, and soon everyone else will too. So don’t think threatening to fire me is going to help you last any longer.”

Schuler frowned, wide and full of faux-concern. “I think you’re being a little paranoid, Lyor,” he murmured. “Just remember to try and keep those emotions in check, yeah?”

Lyor met his gaze head on. He sniffed disdainfully. “You wear too much cologne.”

Schuler’s lips curved back into their familiar smile, though to Lyor it looked distinctly like he was baring his fangs. “I’ll catch you later- Staff is in fifteen.”

Lyor watched Schuler’s receding figure with a curled lip. So, this was who he was going to be stuck with for the foreseeable future. At least he knew Schuler wouldn’t be Chief of Staff for the rest of Lyor’s time there- everyone was going to see what an utter ass he was, and he would be booted before long.

Except, the universe truly did seem to have a vendetta against Lyor, because by the time they met for the morning brief, the little snake had managed to wrap the entire staff around his little finger. The President seemed utterly charmed- because that man, to Lyor’s exasperation, seemed to have an endless capacity for trust and blind faith. Aaron also looked satisfied, and even Kendra thought he seemed “a pretty decent guy.”

“He’s an incompetent- did you hear those ideas he was spouting?” Lyor complained to Kendra as they left the meeting.

She rolled her eyes good naturedly. “You realise that Keith disagreeing with you is not the same as him being terrible at his job, right?”

“Keith?” Lyor gasped, halting to gape at her in betrayal. “ _Keith_? You’re even referring to him by first name now?”

Kendra stared blankly at him. “....Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because he’s a sanctimonious little snake and he doesn’t deserve the respect!” Lyor fumed. Then, sourly. “He doesn’t like me either, you know.”

“He’s joining a long list, I’m afraid,” Kendra laughed, patting him on the arm before splitting off.

On a better day, Lyor would have run after Kendra and spent the next hour explaining in great detail the evidence from their campaign five years ago that would prove Schuler to be a political prokaryote. But that would run the risk of Kendra saying that maybe, considering the nature of Lyor’s constructive criticism back then, Schuler’s dislike of him seemed perfectly reasonable, and Lyor wasn’t ready to deal with any more grievous treachery today.

And, if he was being honest, he didn’t have the fuel for long winded rants today. As much as Lyor tried, he couldn’t quite keep the issue of Seth’s disappearance off his mind. It ate at him constantly all throughout the day, conspicuous as the empty air beside him, the ringing silence in his office. Lyor kept his door closed the entire day out of habit, or maybe out of hope.

What kept him focused enough on work to actually get things done was the self assurance that when he got home, he could come up with a plan to work this out. But as Lyor trudged through the door and stood in his pristine, empty living room, he realised that he had no idea what to do.

Lyor wrapped his arms around himself. He didn’t know what to do, and he was going to lose Seth again because of it.

“Seth?” he called out hesitantly into the silence. “Seth,” he said again tiredly- and he was so, so tired of this. “I’m sorry.”

How many things was he apologising for at this point? For asking those questions, for the way he’d been treating him since he’d returned, for not being able to help him now, for- for-

Lyor swallowed and closed his eyes. Behind his lids, the image of Seth’s corpse burned.

He opened them again. This was stupid- Seth couldn’t hear him. That was the whole point.

The living room felt too big with just him in it. Lyor slipped into the bathroom, setting his glasses down by the sink and splashing water on his face. The water was bitingly cold, but Lyor felt colder. He cupped water in his hands, tipped it against his gaunt cheeks, imagined the sensation of being trapped under the surface, unable to breathe.

How many times, how many fucking times had he spat at Seth that he wished he had never come back? Why- because it hurt? Because it was a reminder? He had spent hours belittling him, sneering at him, lying awake at night after nightmares; bitter and broken and blaming Seth for it all. Lyor had wished for him to be gone, and now he was. He had won.

Lyor tipped his head back, gaze crawling over his reflection in the mirror. There were beads of water framing his chin, tracing the line of his throat; crystalline jewels. _You should look happy_ , he thought to himself bitterly. _This is what you wanted, isn’t it? Be fucking happy._

Under this sterile light, Lyor didn’t look happy. He looked small. He looked a mess. He looked tired, actually, more tired than he had in a long time. Lyor couldn’t say why- he’d been sleeping about as regularly as he always did nowadays. In fact, he’d been sleeping better. But still there were lines of exhaustion marring his face, inky bags bruising under his eyes. Lyor ran a hand over his sopping face- his skin felt clammy under his own fingers. But what did that matter?

He turned around; cursed, stumbled, nearly slipped on the slick tiles. Right there, standing only a few inches from him, was Seth.

 _So_ , Lyor thought humbly as he stared. _Ghosts can’t be seen through mirrors. Good to know._

“It was like falling asleep,” Seth said. He had his hands in his pockets, head ducked, but his voice was steady and unrelenting.

Lyor’s throat unstuck. “Seth-“ he tried to get out, but Seth powered on over him.

“I know it sounds cliche, but it’s the truth,” the ghost continued. “It was like slipping into a dream, except it was more like a nightmare, ‘cause I was just reliving the wave, being hurt, and dying over, and over, and over. And I felt it. Every. Single. Time. So, yes,” Seth’s voice took on a harsh edge as he finally looked up. His eyes were dark pools. “It was painful. And then when I came to you, it was like sleeping again, because I felt like I’d just woken up- like when you fall asleep and the next minute you’re awake and it’s like no time passed. That’s what dying felt like.”

Lyor slowly slipped his glasses back onto his dripping nose. Seth came back into hyper-sharp focus. His heart thudded in his chest. In just six weeks, how had he forgotten the feeling of loss? It took this- Seth leaving again, and then returning to him- for Lyor to remember. He didn’t want to remember.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” Seth murmured. His expression had lost its sharp edge, though it was still resolute. “I heard you.”

Lyor blinked questioningly. Seth sighed and reached down to wrap his icy fingers around Lyor’s wrists. And then, in a heartbeat, he was gone. Lyor tensed, but as he looked down at his slightly outstretched hands he realised he could still feel Seth’s grip, squeezing reassuringly even as he was out of sight.

Seth materialised again. Lyor let out a slow exhale. “Well. You’ve really been keeping that one in the bag, haven’t you?”

Seth smiled slightly, letting go of Lyor’s wrists. “I only just discovered it myself- this morning. I’m sorry I didn’t come back earlier- turns out it’s hard to stay corporeal when I’m invisible, and even harder to reappear when I’ve disappeared. But I think I have a grip on it now. It’s all controlling how much power I use. It’s like I’m pulling energy or something from....” he trailed off, shaking his head. “That’s not important right now.”

Seth’s gaze pierced Lyor to the core. He felt frozen, pressed against the sink. “Those questions you asked me this morning,” Seth said softly. “They made me feel like I wanted to disappear. So I did.” He rubbed the back of his head. “So, what I’m trying to say is that I get it, okay? I get not wanting to talk about these things, because...because they make you feel weak, or powerless, or small.”

Lyor looked away, but Seth’s hard stare drew him back. “But,” the ghost continued firmly. “I came back, and I answered them, because I can’t just run away from what happened to me. I died. That’s my reality, and I have to face that, even the most painful parts.”

Lyor bit his lip. He knew where Seth was going with this, but he felt powerless to interject, and he just nodded jerkily.

Seth’s face was gentle. “What you said last night- you were right,” he said. “This has to go both ways. I can’t expect you to talk to me if I don’t talk to you. But I’ve answered your questions, Lyor. Now I need you to answer mine.” His eyes were wide and earnest, and he felt so close. “What happened?” Seth murmured. “Before I came back? I know something did- I see the way everyone acts around you. There’s a reason why the President forced you to go into therapy. And I think that all has something to do with why you feel like you have to push me away all the time.”

Lyor licked his lips. “There’s nothing to say-“

“Bullshit,” Seth cut in, not unkindly. “No more lies, no more spinning. Just the truth.”

Seth’s hand crept up subtly, so slowly Lyor barely registered the chill, and rested on Lyor’s shoulder. Long fingers stretched out to barely brush the back of his neck, gentle and encouraging; a lifeline. Lyor didn’t even shudder.

“Lyor, you have seen me at my worst,” Seth said softly. “Do you honestly think, after everything we’ve been through, that I’m going to judge you for this?”

Lyor felt the words rising at the back of his throat. He felt the shame too, clawing itself up behind them. He hadn’t wanted to talk about this. He hadn’t thought he needed to talk about this. But he had thought he wanted Seth gone too, hadn’t he? Maybe, he was tired of lying; to Seth and to himself.

Tired. Lyor was tired.

He began to speak.


	12. Humiliation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Referenced disordered eating

The first thing Lyor remembered, whenever he thought back to that night, was Kendra....

“ _Lyor?” Kendra whispered, giving him the subtlest of nudges from where she was standing beside him. “Are you okay?”_

_Lyor blinked at her, her words moving from her mouth to his ears as slowly a fly through honey. They eventually registered though, and he sluggishly shrugged them off, fixing his gaze back on Aaron._

_“M’fine,” he mumbled, the lie quick and easy off his tongue. He felt worse than usual, and that was saying something. Lyor was used to tiredness weighing him down- he had been averaging what felt like an hour of sleep every night since Taurasi. It was all he could afford, what with the utter maelstrom the White House had been plunged into, and it wasn’t like the sleep he would get would be refreshing. He figured feeling like a zombie every waking moment was a decent payoff. But this feeling was worse than that. Lyor felt like all the blood in his body had been drained, leaving him lifeless and empty-headed._

_When was the last time he ate?_

_Lyor swatted the question away in his mind. That didn’t matter. Eating was a needless distraction that he didn’t bother with unless strictly necessary. It drained away precious time he could be spending on work. And besides, he could use hunger to his advantage- that incessant keening of his stomach, lying empty and hollow, kept him alert, stopped him from accidentally dozing off or...thinking about things he’d rather not dwell on. Lyor didn’t crave food, he craved distraction, and that was this hunger gave him._

_Not eating, not sleeping- some people might call that unhealthy, but to Lyor it just meant more time left for work. Work was all that mattered. Work was what he clung onto with both hands, to stop his mind from slipping. Work was- work was-_

_Work- yes, work was what he had to focus on right now. Lyor blinked, trying to clear the blurriness from the edges of his vision. He fixed his gaze on Aaron, trying to play catch-up with the low drone of sounds spilling from the Chief of Staff’s lips. They were all in the Oval Office, meeting with the President about.....Lyor couldn’t remember, exactly. Something important, he was sure. It was work- it was the only thing that was important, remember?_

_Damnit, he had to focus. Lyor reached a hand up to try and rub away the blurriness that he couldn’t seem to shake from his eyes, wondering vaguely why his hand felt like it was made of lead. Massaging his eyelids hadn’t seemed to work. If anything, his vision had gotten worse- grey tinged and wavering, with wiggling lines like grains of static snaking their way across the room._

_Somewhere, deep inside, Lyor felt a drop of panic. But it disappeared, eaten up by the hungry maw of his stomach, and he was left with nothing but that all-encroaching numbness that had been his constant companion for the last two months._

_“You really don’t look well. Are you sick?”_

_Lyor heard Kendra’s words distantly, as if from down a long tunnel. They echoed, bouncing off the walls of his skull, made him squeeze his eyes shut in protest. They were the only noise he could hear- Aaron and the President, he realised, had stopped talking. Lyor tried to reply, but whatever he said came out garbled, dropping like gravel from his panting mouth._

_This wasn’t good. Lyor took a step forward, with a distant thought that he needed to escape from this room urgent in his mind, but the floor lurched, disappearing under his feet._

_The last thing he thought, before everything went blank, is that perhaps he should have eaten something after all._

_...._

_  
A jumble of sounds, lulling Lyor into dazed wakefulness. His eyelids felt too heavy to open, so he kept them closed._

_“.....hit his head?” A high pitched voice- that sounded like Kendra._

_“No, I....”_

_Lyor’s cheek was pressed against something warm. That didn’t completely make sense- the gears of his mind, groggy as they were, had pieced together that he must have fainted, so he should be sprawled across the Oval Office carpet right then. But this warmth, whatever it was, was insanely comfortable, so Lyor just nuzzled into it contentedly._

_“Let me take his legs,” a deep voice- was that Mike?- said._

_“Nah, I got him- Christ, he’s so light.” Lyor heard Aaron say those words, but he also felt the rumble of them against his ear, emanating from that delightful warmth. His heart seized. Did that mean-?_

_Lyor felt suddenly weightless, his frame jostled gently as a strong pair of arms held him close, and he was unceremoniously lifted into the air. That had been Aaron’s voice, Lyor realised with sick horror, which meant that the warmth against his cheek was Aaron’s chest. It meant that Aaron was currently carrying him; cradling him like a child._

_Oh god._

_Lyor wondered if it was possible to just keep his eyes shut forever and pretend he’d fallen into a coma so he’d never have to face everyone. On second thought, that might not be necessary- he was pretty sure he was about to die of shame. He kept his eyes carefully closed, even as he felt Aaron settle him down on the cushions of the couch._

_A hand was gently carding through his hair. Not Aaron, thankfully, judging by the delicate touch- that was Kendra. But why the hell would she be doing that?_

_A little further away, Lyor heard the President- “I’ll call the doctor,” he was saying- and the alarm that brought was enough to overcome the instinct to play dead. Lyor forced his eyes open, blinking dazedly up at the faces crowded around him._

_“No!” Lyor spluttered, and Kendra made a small noise of surprise, pulling her hand away. “No...no doctor.”_

_The only thing remotely worse than his coworkers seeing him collapse was a complete stranger asking him invasive questions about it. Lyor fought off the bonds of exhaustion trapping him as he struggled to wriggle into a sitting position. Aaron, who was looming over the couch, let out a noise of protest, grabbing his shoulders and pressing him back against the cushions._

_“Woah, hey, take it easy-“_

_Lyor still felt weak as a kitten, but he could muster enough strength to rip Arron’s arms off of him. “Get your hands off me!” he snarled. Aaron stepped back, stance guarded. Beside him, Kendra tensed._

_Lyor managed to sit himself up, swinging his feet down to settle on the floor. The firmness didn’t make him feel any better, but he tried to steady his voice as well as he could. “I don’t need to see a doctor,” he said, glaring up at the others. “I’m fine. See?”_

_The others stared back. Aaron looked incredulous, and Kendra just looked worried. Mike was stoic as ever, but there was a little frown creasing his face. In the background, Tom was murmuring into the phone. Lyor’s stomach clenched- apparently he hadn’t been convincing enough._

_“I’m fine,” he repeated, hating how petulant he sounded even to his own ears._

_Finally, Kendra’s concern morphed into something harder, and she crossed her arms. “Okay, no- you’re the biggest hypochondriac I know,” she said. “You once tried to get an MRI scan because you had a headache that lasted three days. But now you faint and it’s no big deal? What’s gotten into you?”_

_Lyor didn’t understand why everyone was making such a big fuss- it’s not like any of them actually cared about him._

_“I know my body, Kendra,” he said sulkily, mind still too foggy to make sense of all this attention being directed at him all of a sudden. “I just haven’t been sleeping much.”_

_“I never sleep,” Aaron interjected, eyes narrowed. “None of us do. But you don’t see us falling unconscious in the middle of meetings.”_

_There was the sound of a phone being set down in the receiver, and the President joined their little huddle. His brow was furrowed with deep fissures of concern. “This is more than exhaustion, Lyor,” he said sternly. “When was the last time you ate?”_

_Lyor rubbed the back of his clammy neck self consciously. “Uh, I’m not sure,“ he mumbled, trying to think back through the jumble of his mind. “I think...it was when you brought me some of that pilaff, Kendra,” he finally said, nodding to the lawyer. Her face went dangerously still._

_“That was Wednesday, Lyor,” she said, voice low. The air tensed, flooded with mutters of alarm from the others._

_Lyor was lost. “So?”_

_The President’s voice was aghast. “It’s Monday.”_

_Oh. “Oh.”_

_That didn’t seem to appease the others. “Look, it isn’t a big deal,” Lyor blurted out. “This is the first time this has happened. Usually, I’ll eat something every couple of days, at least, to stop myself from fainting. I just.....forgot....”_

_He trailed off. That had been the wrong thing to say. Everyone in the room was gaping at him, mouths hanging open in horror._

_This was different to the last two months, and not in a good way. He’d barely been spared a second glance since getting off the plane from Taurasi. Everybody had been focused on Seth- or rather, Seth’s absence, and in the midst of their grief, Lyor had disappeared; grateful to fade into the background. Only Kendra had made an effort to interact with him, but even then, most of her attention got diverted back to her work or her boyfriend. Lyor knew it had only been for show, anyway- none of them could bear to look at him, really._

_But now, it seemed like that was all they could do. Unrelenting eyes roamed his form, taking in his bony wrists and dulled eyes, the way his clothes hung off his coat-rack thin frame, like it was the first time they’d ever seen it- and maybe it was. Lyor squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny. He felt like he was being stripped naked._

_Kendra started speaking again, and this time her voice wavered. “Why would you do that? Are you trying to hurt yourself?”_

_It was rhetorical, but Lyor could sense a genuine question there. She sounded scared to hear the answer._

_Well, Lyor wasn’t going to give it to her. He’d had enough of this. With his head pounding in protest, Lyor hauled himself to his feet, Aaron and Kendra jumping back in surprise at the abruptness of his movement. Lyor was swaying where he stood, but at this point he didn’t care- he’d hobble out of this office if he had to._

_“I’m just- I’ve got a lot on my mind,” he snapped. “But it’s my problem- not any of yours.” He started wobbling towards the door, but the President’s voice rang out behind him, sharp and commanding._

_“When you collapse in my office, it becomes my problem. Sit down, Lyor.”_

_Lyor ignored him, but at the President’s words, Mike had moved to plant himself in front of the door. Lyor didn’t have a hope of reaching it before him. He slowed to a halt in front of the agent, peering up at his towering frame._

_“Let me go, Mike.” He had been trying for authoritative, but it came out as more of a whine._

_Mike was unmoved. “Not gonna happen.”_

_Lyor was out of options. There was no way he could push past that mountain of muscle, not even in his best condition, and if he tried then he had no doubt that Mike could just scoop him up and carry him back to the couch himself. And Lyor was not eager to be picked up again. But at the same time, he desperately did not want to return to the mercy of his coworkers. He was exhausted, he was crawling with shame, and he just wanted to go home._

_Lyor’s face was burning, and- to his frustration- he could feel his lip wobbling slightly. He was spiralling out of control and he despised it. A plume of anger ignited in his chest, and he latched onto it eagerly. Rage was a better excuse for his misbehaving body- far better than the helplessness he could feel welling up inside him._

_“You don’t have to worry, it won’t happen again,” Lyor spat, whirling around. He turned directly to Aaron and the President, skewing them with the most vicious glower he could conjure. “This won’t affect my work.”_

_The President looked horrified. “You think we’re thinking about your work?” he breathed. “Lyor, we’re worried about you!”_

_Lyor barked out a harsh laugh. Did the President really expect him to fall for that line? He wasn’t an idiot. “You don’t have to lie to spare my feelings,” he sneered. “I already know you all hate me. It’s fine, really.”_

_Kendra’s mouth was taut in an ‘o’ of shock, eyes blown wide. “We don’t-“ she gasped, and any remaining sense of Lyor’s composure snapped like a twig._

_“Stop lying to me!” The words came out in a near shriek, but Lyor couldn’t help it, He’d already embarrassed himself enough that night, he didn’t need to be made fun of on top of that. “You think I can’t see it in the way you look at me? I know you all wish I had died instead!”_

_Kendra was shaking her head wordlessly. Aaron stared at the ground, shoulders taut. “Lyor-“ the President tried to cut in, but no amount of presidential authority could slow Lyor now. He dragged his glare across the room, hoping to sear every one of them._

_“I know, okay?” he shrilled out, voice several octaves too high and his hands shaking at his sides- and why, why, why couldn’t he control his body? What was happening to him? “You think it would be better if Seth was here, not me. Well, I’m sorry you’re stuck with me instead, but you are.”_

_Lyor gulped in a lungful of air- there didn’t seem to be enough of it in the room. The breath that he did manage was hitching and broken. It wasn’t just his hands that were shaking now- his whole body was trembling uncontrollably. It felt like he was coming apart at the seams, with two months worth of pent up emotion bursting out all at once._

_“I don’t care if you hate me. Just don’t mock me like this.” Lyor’s eyes were burning now, and he blinked, frantically trying to hold back the tears he could feel threatening to escape. “Just let me- I-I just-“ his voice broke completely, and he shook his head helplessly, out of words._

_Kendra took a hesitant step forward, reaching out a reassuring hand._

_“Stay the hell away from me,” Lyor snapped, shoulders heaving. Kendra edged back, looking torn._

_Lyor turned away, clapping a hand over his mouth, but not before he saw Aaron’s expression turn hard. Coming to Kendra’s defence- how typical._

_“Alright, you need to calm down-“ Aaron said sharply, but his words died abruptly as Lyor sniffled, ducking his head as the first treacherous tears escaped down his cheeks._

_“Oh,” Aaron murmured. Lyor had never heard him sound so uncertain before. “Hey, are you...crying?“_

_Lyor swiped furiously at his wet face. “N-no-“ he tried to gasp out, but to his horror, his words were snuffed out as a sob ripped from his throat. With that, it was as though the seal had broken, and Lyor couldn’t stop them coming._

_This could not be happening. He could not be breaking down into tears in front of all his coworkers- in front of the goddamn President! Lyor hunched in on himself, shoved his mouth into his sleeve to muffle the wretched sounds, but the more he tried to stop, the harder he cried, even as a voice screamed out that this was wrong, this was wrong, this- this wasn’t allowed!_

_Lyor bit down on his arm, pain blossoming up and out as he clenched his teeth as tight as he could. He hadn’t been allowed to cry as a child. It was a sign of weakness, his father had always told him- after Lyor pulled himself together, that is. He would never talk to Lyor while he was crying, only peer down at him in cold, clinical silence, as if he was some sort of curiosity; a study in worthlessness. Lyor remembered being seven years old, curled up in his closet with his face buried in his knobbly knees; hiding so his father wouldn’t hear his sobs._

_He felt like that shaking child again. He wished for a closet to hide in. He wished for his father, to silence him with that stony stare; because that that was better, so much better, than the looks he knew he was getting from the others. Shock, he was sure, and revulsion. And, worst of all- pity._

_A hand, too gentle to be anyone but Kendra’s, brushed against his shoulder. Lyor flinched away with a wet, wordless, animal snarl._

_As his sobs petered out into pitiful little sniffles, Lyor made out the vague sounds of the President ushering the others out of the room. He supposed he should have been grateful that his gawking audience was gone, but it didn’t make him feel any better. Nothing could make this better. This was...this was....._

“....Humiliating,” Lyor finished. “Beyond humiliating.”

He had his tie in his hands, twining it round and round his fingers distractedly as he recounted the night of his breakdown. They had left the bathroom at some point, and now Lyor was curled up on the couch, Seth perched beside him. Lyor was steadfastly staring up at the ceiling, the walls; anywhere but Seth’s face, but he could feel the agitation emanating from his friend’s form. It was thick in Seth’s voice when he spoke:

“You think the worst thing about that story is that you embarrassed yourself in front of everybody?” he asked, voice tight. Lyor shrugged.

“Lyor, you worked yourself to the point of collapse. You were starving yourself!”

Lyor hunched further in on himself. “Not intentionally,” he muttered stiffly.

“It doesn’t matter,” Seth said, voice rough and breaking a little. “There was still a reason.”

Lyor’s lips thinned. The reason- it had been on the tip of his tongue, shadowing the corners of his mind, but even though he knew it was what Seth had really been asking for, he still couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Seth didn’t push, though, and they sat together in silence, knees touching as they watched morning light slowly creep in under the door. Seth hadn’t interrupted him while he’d been talking either, but Lyor had started slow, and finished even slower, dragging out silences as he struggled to spit out the most embarrassing parts- in the end, he’d talked his way through the night.

Not about everything though. The story- the humiliation- hadn’t ended there. The rest of the night, after he’d endured being looked over by the resident doctor; Lyor had been left with the President.

Part of it- grovelling to keep his job, being forced to start seeing a therapist- Seth would already have been able to piece together from overheard conversations between Lyor and the President, and he didn’t want to rehash anything he didn’t have to. But there was more that Lyor didn’t want to tell Seth about.

He didn’t want to talk about how, after the others had left, the President had sat him down again and just let him cry himself out, giving him the space to regain a few scraps of dignity. Or how the President had ordered up a bowl of chicken soup and threatened to have the Secret Service hold Lyor down while he spoon fed him if Lyor didn’t finish it. How the President, quiet and firm, had told him that he refused to let Lyor believe that he was hated.

It had still been humiliating, but at least there had been a modicum of privacy. Nobody but the President knew about that part of the night, and Lyor wanted to keep it that way. That, at least, he could have for himself.

This quiet recovery of dignity- it seemed that Seth was giving Lyor that as well. Lyor let himself take a breath, then another; and as he watched pale sunlight brighten the wall, he could feel Seth watching him.

A touch landed on his knee, and Lyor finally let himself glance at Seth. There was a considering look in his friend’s eye, and Lyor resigned himself for whatever was coming. As reluctant as he was to do anything but sleep at this point, he already knew he wouldn’t be able to refuse Seth anything, not with the panic of losing him again still heavy in his chest.

“There’s someplace I think we need to go,” the ghost said, and Lyor tilted his head. “I think....we should visit my grave.”

Lyor exhaled slowly, letting his tie fall from his hands with a flutter. Every cell in his body railed against the idea, but he’d learnt well enough by now that what he wanted was so rarely what he needed. For now, for whatever reason, Seth seemed to know what he needed better than he did.

“I haven’t been,” he admitted. “Not since the funeral.”

He’d told himself that it was unnecessary, a waste of time. Now, though, he knew that he’d just been running away. And since when had running ever gotten him anywhere?

It was what children did- not men. And Lyor was sick to death of feeling like a child.

“That’s exactly why we need to go,” Seth said. Lyor glanced at him- even with his voice steady with resolve, Seth still looked scared. This wouldn’t just be for Lyor, then- they both needed to face this.

Lyor licked his lips anxiously, but he nodded. “Well, the cemetery isn’t far from here,” he sighed, standing up and making a halfhearted effort to smooth down his rumpled shirt. After a whole night spent up, he looked a mess, but he couldn’t bring himself to care that much- after all, his only audience was the dead.

After a second, Seth stood as well, clearly surprised by how easily Lyor gave in. Perhaps he’d been hoping for more of a fight, some way to justify this for himself, to actually work up the nerve. Alright, Seth had done enough encouraging already. This time it was Lyor’s turn.

“You ready?” Lyor asked. Seth nodded. Lyor led, and Seth followed.

It was a short enough distance to walk to the cemetery, in a city where everything was an arm’s reach away. It was close enough to feel like a taunt, but Lyor tried not to think about the dread pooling in his stomach. Instead, he tried to enjoy the quiet of the dawn. The day had not quite matured yet, the pink blush of sunrise still warming the sky, and the sticky heat of the night had lingered; leaving the grass underfoot heavy and wet with dew.

There was nobody else in the graveyard. Just the two of them; one man, one ghost. The faint hum of the city seemed to disappear as they went further in, swallowed up by the stillness of the cemetery. Surrounded by tombstones, with a dead man beside him, Lyor felt like the last man alive.

Even though he’d only been here for the funeral, Lyor’s feet guided him straight to where they needed to go, stopping abruptly a few feet away when they reached it, unwilling to go any closer.

Seth’s grave was a simple one. It was barely distinguishable from the rest of the tombstones jutting out of the ground like faded, grey teeth, until you got close enough to read the headstone. That, too, was reserved: just a name, dates, and a short verse of poetry curling out underneath that Lyor vaguely recognised as Yeats. The only splash of colour came from the base, where it was adorned with fresh flowers. There were begonias that Lyor remembered from the Wrights’ front garden, next to a bunch of white peonies. He wondered who had brought them- Aaron, perhaps? Or Kendra? A friend from outside the White House?

It could have been anyone. Seth had left so many people behind when he’d died.

Lyor stayed a few feet back, but Seth kept moving forward as if pulled by some invisible force, dropping to his knees in front of the gravestone. His expression was unreadable as he traced the words carved into the stone.

“Nice epitaph,” he finally murmured, mouth forming around the words. Lyor read along.

_We shall find you in the grey summer garden amid the rain-wet roses: stir of wings: and the morning hills behind you._

How quaint. Lyor bet the person who’d chosen that had never imagined that one day they’d find Seth kneeling amongst the grass of his own grave.

Seth stayed like that for a long, long time; just knelt there in the dew. He had one hand absentmindedly kneading the grass, as though if he pressed down hard enough he’d be able to reach his ashes, buried far beneath.

Lyor ducked his head. This part, this wasn’t for him. This was Seth’s goodbye.

His friend’s words a few minutes later brought his gaze back up. “It’s just a gravestone.” Seth’s voice was soft as he gazed up at Lyor, expression oddly tranquil. It was far from what Lyor had anticipated. “I don’t really know what I’d expected,” Seth continued. “I think I thought I’d feel something, but...it is what it is.” His eyes lingered on the dates- birth and death- etched out with a cold finality into the stone, before they fell back on Lyor.

“Do you see it, Lyor?”

Lyor blinked slowly down at Seth. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

There was barely a rustle of movement as Seth stood, gesturing widely at the grave as he stepped back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Lyor. The ghost’s voice was like a breath of wind in his ear.

“Really look at it,” Seth said, and there was a quiet urgency in his words. “I just...died. Nobody could have prevented it, it wasn’t anyone’s fault- it just happened. Simple as that.”

Lyor’s eyes fluttered closed. He tried to remember the wet grass beneath his feet, not the crunch of scorched dirt. There was something building up inside him, something that Lyor had spent months pushing down. Now, though, it was bubbling to the surface, unbidden.

“It was never that simple,” he said, shaking his head. “There were so many variables. If I’d started searching faster, if I’d covered more ground-“

“No, Lyor-“

“Maybe if I’d gone with you, I could have stopped you from leaving the roof-“

“You don’t know that.”

Lyor shook his head. Seth was right- there were so many things about that day that he didn’t know, so many things that he longed to know but never would. He lived a life ruled by knowledge, by facts and figures and careful calculations, and it was this uncertainty that hurt the most.

In his mind’s eye, like a video stuck on repeat, Lyor watched Seth’s last moments play out. How many times had he gone back over this in his head, without ever admitting that it was what he was doing- trying to figure out what he could have done differently?

He watched Seth breath out his last words. So many things left unknown, left unsaid.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Seth’s silence was answer enough, and Lyor gulped.

“What were you trying to ask me, before you died?”

Seth frowned. Lyor wondered suddenly if he even remembered. Lyor didn’t think he would ever be able to forget:

“ _Lyor.....are-are you.....”_

_If you can give me anything_ , Lyor thought fiercely, _then give me this. Please._

“I think...” Seth murmured, and Lyor felt himself hold his breath. “I was just going to ask you if you were alright.”

Lyor let the air he was holding escape him. He couldn’t bring any more in. He felt as though he had been punched in the stomach.

Seth had been dying, had known he was dying, and the last thing he tried to do was ask if Lyor was alright.

Lyor did not believe in karma. He did not believe in the cosmic balance of the world, or any other vague, spiritual nonsense. He did, however, believe one simple, universal truth: life was, at the most basic level, a series of equations. Everything a person did was just an addition or subtraction to the world around them; improving it or making things worse. These calculations were how people found their place in the world, determined how they were remembered after they died. And Seth’s death- that had been a subtraction Lyor couldn’t even begin to calculate.

It was simply utilitarian, when he really got down to it- the best option was the one that caused the least amount of pain. And Lyor’s death would have been a blip in comparison. What was he to the world- Lyor, a guy who couldn’t even save his friend?

It was a plain, objective fact; Lyor was worth less.

Lyor was worthless.

Seth was still talking- “I’d been worried about you that whole time, and I just needed to know if you were hurt or...”- but he trailed off as Lyor lifted a trembling hand to cover his face.

“....Lyor?”

“It should have been me.”

There it was, slipping brokenly out of Lyor’s mouth before he could even think of stopping it, the insidious truth that had been lurking inside him ever since Seth’s death, burrowing under his skin and spreading like a disease. The reason for everything he’d done to himself. This was the first time he’d ever said it out loud, or even thought it clearly in his mind- Lyor had buried it deep, because, god, this hurt so much. Better to just bandage it over and try to forget. But when Seth had returned, it was like the wound had been ripped open again. He’d thought that pushing Seth away would cauterise it, but it hadn’t worked, and Lyor felt like he was bleeding out. 

“It should have been me,” he repeated- now that he’d said it he couldn’t seem to stop. “It should have been me. I-It should have been- fuck, Seth.”

Seth’s hand landed on his shoulder, but Lyor didn’t flinch. Instead, he felt himself sinking to the ground, knees buckling. Seth went down with him, and as they collapsed into each other, Lyor felt Seth pull him against his chest in a tight embrace. He didn’t resist.

“Don’t say that,” Seth mumbled into his shoulder, grip tight around him. “Never say that.” Lyor had his head tipped back, eyes glassy, but Seth clumsily reached up to cup his cheek, forcing him to turn and face him.

“I need you to listen to me,” Seth said roughly. “I wouldn’t change this, okay? Not if it meant that you had to die instead. I couldn’t do that, man. Do you hear what I’m saying? I would never trade my life for yours.”

Slowly, painfully, Lyor nodded. Face still taut with a troubled frown, Seth rested his chin lightly on his shoulder, and Lyor couldn’t find one good reason to pull away.

He couldn’t agree with Seth- if given the opportunity, Lyor would change this story without a second thought. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. But there were some things that couldn’t be fixed. Lyor had thought that Seth being back was just making everything worse, but maybe- maybe this was the closest things could get to being okay.

“Don’t leave again,” Lyor said.

He sensed Seth’s lips curving into a smile. “I’m not going anywhere.”

They slowly untangled themselves from the embrace they’d been wrapped up in, but Seth kept an arm slung around Lyor’s shoulders, and they sat together in silent solidarity, tipping their heads back to watch the new day unfold across the sky above them. The sun was mild against Lyor’s face, but with a lethargic mind, he slowly discovered that it wasn’t the only heat he was feeling.

He glanced down in quiet astonishment at the hand resting against his shoulder. Seth was pressed against him, solid as life, and his skin, Lyor realised, almost felt warm.


	13. The Calm

It was almost reassuring to know that, even after making peace with Seth, the White House was still causing as much trouble as ever.

Lyor was strolling away from the press room, feeling grateful that nobody had done anything of noteworthy stupidity lately to make his job even harder than it already was. Every few seconds he would brush shoulders with Seth, relishing how warm, how almost-human he’d felt since that morning in the graveyard a week ago- but his contentment shattered when a gratingly familiar pair of footfalls fell into place beside him. Seth groaned, and Lyor grimaced as subtly as he could as he turned to face Tiffany Gimble.

“You know, you were close to decent out there today,” she said brightly. Lyor would have been insulted, if he couldn’t grudgingly admit that it was true. Seth had been coaching him as he went, murmuring appropriate ways of deflecting questions in his ear and jabbing him in the ribs when he got a bit too catty. Lyor felt like he had internal bleeding by the end of it, but he wasn’t about to tell Seth to back off. As much as they tended to disagree about things professionally, he knew that when it came to handling the press, Seth Wright was the best around.

Another thing they could agree on, Lyor reflected with a scowl, was that Tiffany Gimble was a royal pain in the ass.

“Tiffany, just my luck,” he said tightly. Tiffany seemed to believe she was the White House’s own Carl Bernstein, and being approached by her was never a good sign- especially when she had that glint in her eye.

“Hmm,” she smiled slyly. “Maybe for you. Lucky isn’t exactly how I’d be describing your administration at the moment.”

Lyor’s grip on his belt tightened incrementally. He tried to tell his muscles to relax, making sure he made no reaction to Tiffany’s words that she could pick up on- she was like a bloodhound for body language. Lyor would scoff at the notion that he was intimidated by the press, but the threat of some nosy journalist getting their hands on the story of Emily being investigated for treason still hung ominously over all their heads. That story getting out would ruin the tentatively stable position for re-election they’d been working so hard towards- Lyor honestly couldn’t see much of a way to recover from it. So he had developed a healthy dose of caution, especially around Tiffany Gimble. He knew she’d had a keen interest in Emily’s resignation, and even though that was months old news by this point, she was still sniffing around, clearly suspicious of something bigger at play. Unfortunately, she was dead on.

She continued. “You still haven’t found yourself a new Press Secretary. It’s been months. You know how this looks.”

Lyor finally allowed himself to actually relax. For now, at least, the secrecy of the investigation was holding water. Compared to that, handling needling questions about their Press Secretary situation was child’s play.

“It looks like we’re taking the utmost care in choosing a replacement,” he said cheerfully, plastering on his most camera-worthy smile as he fed her the line. “Progress takes time.”

It was a good save, but Seth still looked a little disquieted. Lyor knew that the stall for finding his replacement bothered his friend. It probably made him feel even more ineffectual than normal, knowing that he’d left such a gaping hole in the administration. Tiffany, too, looked unimpressed.

“Progress moved a lot quicker for your new Chief of Staff,” she pointed out, and this time Lyor couldn’t stop his lip from curling. He got it back under control after a second. “Hopefully he’ll be able to steer this ship in the right direction, since the Commander in Chief doesn’t seem to be able to.” Her eyes lingered meaningfully on Lyor, her lips quirking into a razor sharp smile. “Keith Schuler might have ideas on who’s really best for serving in this administration.”

Lyor stiffened. He didn’t have to ask for clarification- he knew she was talking about him. He’d heard all the rumours that had started circulating the second after he’d come back from Taurasi; stories about how he was mentally unfit, close to a nervous breakdown. Lyor hadn’t bothered to acknowledge them. Maybe that had been a mistake.

“Keith Schuler has the utmost confidence in his staff. And the President,” Lyor said smoothly.

Tiffany sniffed, unconvinced. “Good to hear.” Thankfully, she seemed to be done fishing, as she turned on her heel and started down the otherwise vacant corridor, nose buried in her phone. Seth stared after her balefully, fists balled by his sides. Lyor wasn’t sure whether it had been the slight against the President or himself that had set Seth off, or whether it was simply her presence- just her voice was enough to put Lyor in a sour mood most days. Whatever it had been, Lyor expected Seth to spit out a few choice words of vitriol at her retreating back.

What he didn’t expect, however, was for Seth to stride after her.

Lyor watched with wide eyes as Seth struck out peevishly, smacking the phone Tiffany was feverishly typing into from her hand. It spun out of her grasp, clattering to the floor, and the force of it caused her to stumble slightly. She looked around wildly, bug eyed, for what mysterious force just assaulted her. All she saw was Lyor, stood exactly where he’d been five seconds ago, watching her with an arched eyebrow.

Tiffany gulped, snatching up her phone from the floor and scurrying off. He tried not to take too much perverse pleasure from the terror he’d seen on her face. He wondered what her explanation for this was going to be. Maybe, somewhere in the back of her mind, she would suspect Lyor of having telekinetic powers, and he felt oddly charmed by the idea. Hopefully she’d think twice before bothering him so much in the future.

Seth looked caught somewhere between giddy delight and sheepishness. “I didn’t mean to make her trip,” he mumbled, shuffling back to Lyor. “But _goddamn_ that felt good. You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasised about doing that.”

Lyor couldn’t be more proud. “Exactly what I’d expect from a White House professional, Seth,” he chuckled.

Seth didn’t smile back- the glee from a second ago had been wiped away, and instead he was shaking his head furiously, eyes fixed on a point over Lyor’s shoulder.

“What was that?” Lyor stiffened as a familiar, smarmy voice chimed from behind him, and he dragged himself around to come face to face with Schuler. _Shit_. Out of all the people to catch him talking to an invisible ghost, why did it have to be this guy?

“Just thinking out loud,” Lyor said smoothly, not a single twitch of his face betraying the way his heart had vaulted into his throat. Keith smiled placidly, but his brown eyes twinkled darkly as he stared thoughtfully at Lyor, like he was trying to see through into his mind.

Lyor tapped his foot impatiently. “Did you need something?”

Schuler finally looked away, nodding in the direction in which Tiffany slipped away. “What did she want?”

Lyor glanced in the same direction and ended up locking eyes with Seth. He still looked agitated, eyes flicking between Lyor and Schuler. Lyor tried to sound reassuring as he said: “Looking to stir things up, as usual.”

“Did you handle it?”

Lyor gave his boss a withering glare as he started walking, Schuler falling into step beside him. “It’s my job to handle it. Besides, Tiffany Gimble isn’t as big a fish as she thinks she is. She doesn’t know anything important.”

“Good, good,” Schuler said. “Some of these reporters, they’re real pieces of work, eh?” They turned a corner, and screeched to a halt to avoid slamming into Kendra, who was rushing in the opposite direction.

“Sorry, guys,” she squeaked, swerving around them even as she spoke. “I gotta run, sorry. Hi, Lyor.”

She beamed at Lyor before disappearing around the bend. Lyor smiled back, long after her retreating back was out of sight. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to speak to Kendra the last few days. It was good to see her, even just for a second.

The lightness nestled in his chest abruptly darkened when Schuler spoke again, and Lyor remembered who he was standing next to.

“Speaking of pieces of work...” he murmured, turning to Lyor with a lascivious grin. “Do you know what Kendra’s deal is?”

“...Deal?”

“Yeah, y’know,” Schuler wiggled his eyebrows. “She single?”

A hot spasm of rage shot through him, and Lyor swallowed harshly to try and dislodge the lump in his throat. He was offended on Kendra’s behalf, frankly. She idea that she could ever be attracted to the likes of Keith Schuler was one of the most devastating insults he had ever heard.

“Exclusively interested in men without combovers, I believe,” Lyor snapped, relishing in the way Schuler self consciously brushed at his receding hairline. Clearly, there were still ways to get under he man’s skin “If you’ll excuse me.” He shouldered past the other man, not interested in tolerating his presence any longer. As he stalked off, he swore he heard Schuler laugh.

Seth lagged behind distractedly, turning back to peer at Schuler over and over, as if it were a nervous tic. He nudged Lyor. “Have you noticed he’s been watching you?”

Lyor sighed and whipped out his phone to his ear. Definitely not his preferred method of communication, but he didn’t have the time to duck back into his office- and he”d learnt his lesson about speaking freely in public. “What, Sherlock over there? Hard to miss. He hasn’t got the brains to be subtle.”

Schuler’s’s prying eyes had been painfully obvious since the day he’d started working here. Not hard to figure out why, either- he was looking for something to hold over him now that he had a chance to push Lyor around. It was embarrassingly petty.

Seth made a thoughtful noise, wagging his head. “I’d be careful about underestimating that guy. He’s sharper than you give him credit for. He knows how to push your buttons.”

Lyor snorted. “He doesn’t know anything about me.”

Seth scoffed incredulously. “Come on, man, pay attention. You know he isn’t interested in Kendra- he said that to get a rise out of you. And it worked.”

Okay, that was just- just ridiculous. Why would fishing for information about Kendra’s availability affect him in any way? There had been some slight annoyance, perhaps, in defence of his friend, but Schuler hadn’t gotten a rise out of him. Seth _really_ didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Well, your hypothesis is faulty,” Lyor bit out, not looking Seth in the eye, “because I couldn’t care less about Kendra’s relationship status.”

“Man, for a smart guy, you can be a real idiot sometimes, you know that?” Seth laughed. Oh, this again- Seth seemed fixated on the idea that Lyor had some sort of crush on Kendra. He didn’t, mostly because he wasn’t in middle school. He didn’t do crushes.

“Anyway, I’m just saying,” Seth said. “Watch out for Schuler. He doesn’t like you.” He shot Lyor a scrutinising sideways glance. “What did you do to him, anyway?”

Lyor turned his nose up, affronted. “Why do you assume I did something?”

“Your general personality?”

Fair enough.

Lyor sighed. “We were working a campaign together in Georgia some years back. He liked playing it safe- too safe- and it cost us a win.” Lyor still got annoyed when he thought about it. That should have been a clear cut win- and it would have been, if they’d done what Lyor had been saying the whole time. But instead Schuler, young and too sure of himself for his own good, had taken the reigns and steered them straight off a cliff. All because he wasn’t willing to take a few risks.

He snorted as he remembered the condescension on Schuler’s face as he told Lyor that he knew what he was doing. “He has the backbone of a ventriloquist dummy.”

“You told him that?”

He’d said a lot more than that actually, with a lot more colour and in at least three more languages- he’d paid some of his all-time favourite insults to Keith Schuler.

“Oh yes,” Lyor grinned. “As well as everyone we worked with.”

Seth raised his eyebrows.

“And our boss.”

“How diplomatic of you.”

“She needed to know. Needless to say, he wasn’t popular after that.” Unfortunately, after a year or so, people had seemed to forget about the whole fiasco. Keith Schuler had a reputation made of teflon- it was how he’d still ended up working in the White House.

“So, to translate: you insulted his capabilities and humiliated him in front of his boss.” Seth rolled his eyes. “Gee, I wonder why he doesn’t like you.”

“He humiliated _himself_ in front of his boss,” Lyor corrected with a little heat. He could tell Seth was unimpressed, and he thought that was wildly unjustified. Lyor knew all about reputations being unfairly besmirched- just ask Greg Bowen- and this was nothing like that. Lyor didn’t point fingers unless they were deserved. “Besides, it was five years ago. Some people can just never let go of the past- it’s pathetic.”

Seth barked out a laugh. “Are you serious?”

“What?”

He shook his head, the slight discontent on his face melting away and being replaced by wry affection. “Nothing.”

Lyor thought about pushing it, but decided it was just better just to shrug it off. Seth could have his little inside jokes. He, on the other hand, had a busy day ahead of him.

**—**

Kendra stifled a yawn as she wandered her way through the corridors of the West Wing. It had been a long day for all of them, and now all she wanted to do was enjoy some downtime with her best friend. Work had been keeping them away from each other the last couple of days, and she missed their little chats. She missed him.

And, of course, she wanted to check up on him. There was always worry, when it came to Lyor. He’d actually seemed a little better the last week or so; calmer, less abrasive- not with their new boss, but there seemed to be some preexisting animosity there, so she didn’t question it. Still, even if he was more at peace with himself and the world, Lyor was still far too peaky for Kendra’s liking, and he seemed somehow even more exhausted than usual. She wanted to be optimistic, but she couldn’t shake the worry that this new placidity was the start of something even worse.

And there was the issue of that ‘something’ that he couldn’t talk to her about. Kendra knew that sometimes it was just better not to pry, but it was impossible not to worry about someone who was keeping secrets. She just hoped Lyor knew he could trust her with anything.

Kendra rounded the corner, and her pace slowed as she noticed an unexpected figure loitering outside Lyor’s office: Keith Schuler was leaning casually against the wall beside the door frame, head cocked thoughtfully. What was stranger than their new Chief of Staff skulking around the empty corridor, however, was the fact that Lyor’s door was slightly ajar.

Over the last month or so, Lyor had become almost obsessive about keeping his door firmly closed whenever he was inside. If Kendra was to hazard a guess- and she had to admit, she was fond of a little armchair psychology- she would say that it had something to do with his pathological need for control, stemming from Taurasi. She’d seen that sort of thing in the President- hell, she’d seen it in herself, sometimes. It seemed to be a common symptom in people who’d experienced trauma, especially those who blamed themselves for what happened. And Lyor did blame himself for Seth’s death, Kendra knew, even if he didn’t admit it to anyone.

But tonight, the door was open- maybe Lyor’s tiredness was causing more problems than Kendra realised.

She tried to keep any sign of her concern off her face as she approached Keith, instead greeting him with a polite smile. It was genuine enough; she liked Keith so far. A touch conceited, maybe, and he definitely played the sycophant when it came to the President, but that still made him a few shades better than most of the politicians that worked in Washington. He seemed to know what he was doing, and that was all Kendra cared about.

Lyor despised him, but that didn’t mean much. Kendra trusted her friend, of course, but he was not exactly the best judge of character, mostly because he tended to latch onto the most innocuous of slights and then hold them against a person forever. Lyor could hold a grudge better than her, and that was saying something.

“Hey there, Keith,” she called, and the wry little smile that was playing on his lips widened into a grin of greeting as he saw her approaching. “Still getting the lay of the land?”

He jogged over, meeting her halfway before she could get closer to the door, which Kendra thought was curious; it hadn’t been that far for her to walk. “Something like that,” he said airily, keeping his voice low. There was an odd air about him: a quiet excitement. It set Kendra slightly on edge.

“Right...Well, have a good night,” she said politely, edging around him. “I’m just...” she nodded in the direction of Lyor’s office, and Keith hummed cryptically.

“You’re good friends with Lyor, aren’t you?” he asked.

Kendra looked at him curiously. “Yeah?”

Keith glanced at the door, then back at her. “I thought I should talk to someone who knows him best,” he said. “Have you noticed him acting a little strangely, lately?”

Kendra laughed a little. “Lyor’s always strange.” But as Keith stared at her expectantly, she sobered. She knew what he was really talking about.

“I know he’s been difficult to work with, Keith,” she said apologetically. “Try not to take it too personally. He- well, you know what happened in April. He’s on edge. That’s what trauma does to a person.”

“Mm,” Keith nodded. “Does, ah, does trauma make you talk to yourself as well?”

That made Kendra pause.

“Oh, Lyor does that sometimes. Part of his ‘thinking process, apparently,” she said slowly. She tried to sound reassuring- both for Keith and for herself- but there was alarm niggling at the back of her mind.

“Maybe I should have phrased that better,” Keith said, chewing his lip, and Kendra once again felt struck with a terrible sense of foreboding. “I meant more along the lines of talking to people who aren’t there.”

Kendra’s mouth was dry. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve been keeping an eye on him- I’ve been worried, y’know? And I’ve noticed some strange things. He’ll talk to- well, he says it’s himself, but I’m not so sure. Sometimes he’ll be speaking on the phone, but I never see him actually answer a call.”

At Kendra’s wide eyes, Keith held up his hands. “And I know, I know- Lyor’s an odd guy, he has his weird little habits, but, ah, I happened to be coming this way tonight, and I heard...” his tone dropped to a conspiratorial hush. “Well, why don’t you just see for yourself?”

With a finger to his lips, he led Kendra up to the crack in Lyor’s door. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to peer through, and as she squinted, she caught sight of Lyor seated in his chair, waving his hands around animatedly the way he tended to when he was caught up in a debate. But there was nobody else in the room.

Kendra shifted closer, pressing her ear to the door in an attempt to make out what he was saying. The muffled sounds wafted through the crack in the door, drifting into her straining ears.

“...I know it’s not a long-term solution, but it’s the only one we’ve got right now. We just have to drag this out until the election is over.”

A pause, as if he was waiting for someone to respond, and then he shook his head, massaging his temple frustratedly.

“I know, I know,” he said tiredly. “But there’s....there’s nothing we can do to fix this, Seth.”

Kendra gulped, praying to God that she had not just heard what she thought she’d heard. But as much as she wanted to be wrong, she knew there was no mistaking that. Lyor was talking to Seth.

Lyor was talking to a dead man.

Oh god.

Keith gently pulled her back from the door. His face was solemn as he faced her, but there was still a glint of dark energy in his eyes, an edge of a smile in his voice when he spoke.

“That doesn’t seem like a harmless quirk, does it?”

“I...” Kendra trailed off helplessly. She had no idea what she could say. Cold dread was freezing her to her bones; she felt nearly sick. This was worse than the snappishness, or the neuroticism, or even starving himself. This was...this was some sort of psychotic break. This was, Kendra thought with a horrible certainty, something that she was not going to be able to help Lyor get out of.

“As I understand it, the President seems to have a...special interest in Lyor?”

“He...he worries,” Kendra murmured. “Oh god, Lyor.”

“In that case,” Keith said, voice low, “this is something I should take to him directly. I think it’s time we all had a little chat, don’t you?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer before striding off. Honestly, Kendra wasn’t sure wha she could say anyway. She knew she should be going with Keith- she wasn’t comfortable with him discussing this with the President when she wasn’t there- but she couldn’t tear herself away from the door.

Inside, Lyor was still quietly talking to nobody. It was painful to watch. It was heartbreaking. Lyor was such a brilliant guy. He could probably take over the world if he wanted- and all it had taken was one tragedy to bring him to this low. He didn’t deserve anything he’d been through, and now all of it had the potential to irrevocably ruin his career- and for Lyor, that was practically his entire life.

Kendra had worried that the slight improvement she had noticed had been the prelude to worse things; the calm before the storm. For the first time, she desperately hated being proven right.


	14. The Storm

Tom braced himself against his desk as Keith explained the situation, head bowed, frozen in picture-perfect devastation. Kendra knew she was practically an omen of doom around here, and she hated having to deliver even more bad news to the President- especially after the year he’d had- but if she was being honest, she couldn’t bring herself to worry about him at that moment. Not when she could still see Lyor in her mind’s eye, talking to someone who wasn’t there.

Kendra felt torn. She’d come to talk to the President with Keith because there was a suspicious eagerness pouring from the man as he went to share the news, and she wanted to be there to keep him honest. She would not stand for Lyor being misrepresented, not with something as dire as this. But at the same time, Kendra wasn’t completely convinced that telling the President at all was the best call, especially as the man wearily punched a number into his phone and said: “Bring me Lyor Boone, immediately.”

Kendra’s lips thinned. She knew Lyor well, and she could tell right away that some sort of group intervention was not going to go down well- especially when it involved Keith Schuler. “Sir, this isn’t a good idea.”

Tom set his glasses on the table with a clatter, massaging the bridge of his nose. “We can’t just ignore this, Kendra.”

“So, what, we should gang up on him instead? Because that went so well the last time?”

Keith let out a noise of surprise, taken aback by how brazen Kendra was being, but Tom didn’t even blink. Dating his brother had given her leeway in being able to mouth off at the President, something that had remained even after she and Trey broke up- mostly because Kendra was a damn good lawyer and Tom knew it- and she was going to abuse that power all she could right now.

“He’s not going to react well,” Kendra continued forcefully. “He’s going to go on the defensive, and we’re not going to get anywhere. Let me talk to him alone. I can convince him to...”

She trailed off. To what? There was nothing she could say that would fix this. She knew that Lyor was already skating on thin ice- he’d been given far more second chances than another person might have gotten- and after what they’d told the President today, there was no way this was ending in anything but Lyor clearing out his desk. All Kendra could hope for was the chance to tell him herself, and save him from even more humiliation.

Tom seemed to read her thoughts on her face, because he nodded his head sadly. “We’re far past discussion. I told Lyor he needed to get help or I’d have to let him go.” He sighed. “I don’t know if the therapy isn’t working, or if he stopped going, but if he really is undergoing some sort of psychotic breakdown...” The heavy weight of responsibility was clear on his face as he shook his head. “No, I need to see him.”

Kendra bit her lip, and the President shot her a sympathetic look. “You don’t have to be here, Kendra.”

“I’m not leaving,” she said, jaw set stubbornly. Whatever happened, she wasn’t about to let Lyor go through it alone.

Right at that moment they were interrupted by the door swinging open, and Lyor burst in the room, followed a second later by Aaron. Lyor scanned the room concernedly, eyes lingering a fraction of a second longer on Kendra before landing on the President.

“What happened?” Lyor asked urgently. “Is it Emily?

Kendra’s stomach dropped. Of course that’s what Lyor would assume was going on, especially since Aaron had apparently been summoned to this meeting as well. Although, that puzzled her- the President hadn’t called for the National Security Advisor, and there wasn’t any reason why he should be here for this.

“Why is Aaron here?” Kendra asked, and the man in question narrowed his eyes confusedly.

Keith cleared his throat, raising his hand. “Ah, I asked him to come as well. Since he was Chief of Staff before me, I thought he could weigh in.”

“Weigh in on what?” Aaron asked pointedly, turning to the President. “What’s going on, sir?”

Tom sighed heavily, and Kendra braced herself. “This isn’t about Emily. This is about you, Lyor. Please sit down.”

**—**

Lyor scanned the room, feeling distinctly boxed in as he heard the door click shut behind him. Emily had been on the forefront of his mind, since he’d just been discussing their delicate situation with Seth. So when he was summoned, he’d come to the President’s office expecting to hear that there had been a national security breach and the investigation had been leaked; but with the President’s words, he quickly realised that whatever was going on was much, much worse.

All around, the faces of his coworkers were turned towards him. Aaron looked as confused as he felt, the President just looked regretful, and Schuler- of course- was trying and failing to hide a glow of smugness. Kendra looked devastated, and that was what really set the alarms off in Lyor’s mind.

Beside him, Seth tensed.

Despite the President’s request, Lyor did not sit down. “I’d like to know exactly what’s going on,” he said instead.

Tom pursed his lips, stealing a glance at where Kendra and Schuler were stood together before lacing his fingers together.

“Keith has brought something to my attention, something serious. He says that you’ve been...” The President trailed off, fishing for the right words, and Lyor’s sense of impending doom only grew. “Lyor, he’s seen you talking to people who aren’t there. To Seth.”

Seth swore. Aaron stiffened, hissing in a sharp breath. Lyor just froze, willing himself not to tense up. He had to play this very, very carefully.

“What? Of course I haven’t.” He tried to sound as convincingly incredulous as he could, lips pulling back into a tight, toothy grin. He choked out a chuckle, but the faces in the room remained stony, and the laughter died in his throat.

Alright; if dissolving the tension didn’t work, he was going to have to strike back. “What is this?” Lyor snapped at the President, jabbing an accusing finger over at Schuler. “You’re seriously going to take his word on this over mine? He’s got it out for me, sir- you know, he practically threatened to fire me his first day here-?”

“I saw you too, Lyor.”

Lyor froze, head swivelling to face Kendra. She was chewing furiously on her lip, eyes downcast.

“Ten minutes ago,” she said tremulously. “Your door was open slightly, and I saw- you were having a-a conversation with...the air. You...said Seth’s name. You were talking to him.”

There were things Lyor knew he should be more concerned about in that moment. He should be furious with himself for being careless enough to leave his door open. He should be panicked that his boss seemed to think he’d officially gone off the deep end. But all he could focus on was the searing hurt of knowing that Kendra was in on this.

“You were spying on me,” he accused her, voice thick with betrayal. Kendra’s face crumpled.

“That is far from the issue here,” the President cut in. “I need you to be honest, Lyor- are you having hallucinations?”

Lyor sneered. “I get the feeling that you’re not going to believe me no matter what I say.” Seth laid a hand on his arm, probably trying to get him to reel in the aggressiveness. But what was the point? If even Kendra was against him, then Lyor had no hope.

Tom was stern-faced as he stared down Lyor. “I have no reason to doubt Keith and Kendra, and considering your...history, I’m even more inclined to believe them.”

“My history?” Lyor gaped. “Fainting and having a crying fit is a quantum leap from _schizophrenia_.”

“It’s not just that,” the President snapped. “Your behaviour over the whole last month has been erratic.”

Aaron was nodding slowly, and Lyor rounded his glare on him as he started to speak. “You freaked out in Kendra’s office about emails, and then you left looking like you were about to have a panic attack. Then you called in sick the next day, even though you haven’t so much as taken an early day since I don’t even know when. And you sliced open your hand somehow, with no explanation!”

Lyor scowled, running a finger over the faint white scar on his palm. Across the room, the President and Keith were wearing twin expressions of shock- none of this had gotten back to them before, apparently. Schuler, however, recovered quickly, chiming in.

“You always have your office door closed- you won’t even let your assistant come in,” he pointed out, and the others nodded seriously. “And last week you came to work in the same clothes from the day before, looking like you hadn’t slept a wink, with what looked like grass stains on your pants-“

“Oh my god,” Kendra said softly.

She was gazing at him with mounting horror in her eyes. “This is what you were talking about,” she breathed, and Lyor looked away. “You said there was something going on that you couldn’t talk to me about. You told me not to worry, because you were _handling it._ ” Her voice had rocketed up several octaves, her eyes impossibly wide. Lyor couldn’t meet them.

“This isn’t handling it, Lyor!” Kendra exclaimed. “You can’t keep this sort of thing hidden. You- you need help.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

“Shit,” Seth was muttering, over and over again. “Shit, shit, shit- I’m sorry, Lyor.”

Tom’s voice was gentle as he spoke, but Lyor still tensed up. “This isn’t an attack, Lyor,” he murmured. “We want to help you. This is serious- you’re sick. You need medical help.”

“But not while I’m working here, right? That’s what’s happening- you’re firing me.” Lyor said stiffly. The President’s lips thinned, and Lyor laughed bitterly, keenly aware now of the sensation of his world crashing around him. The only thing stopping the incoming panic attack he could feel mounting in his chest was Seth’s steady hand wrapped around his forearm.

“I told you before that unless you could manage your mental health, I cannot in good conscience keep you on in this administration,” Tom reminded him. “You’re clearly not coping. This is for your own good-“

“Right, of course,” Lyor spat, snapping his head to face Schuler, smiling quietly in the shadows. “You must be thrilled, eh, Schuler? You’ll probably work on getting me involuntarily committed next; for my own good, no doubt.” Schuler had his hands spread in a peace-making gesture- pure condescension. None of the others could even look him in the eye. He could give Schuler that- when he was fucking someone over, he wasn’t a coward about it. Lyor couldn’t say the same about the others.

Lyor sunk down into his chair, fuming. So, this was how it ended? Months of sleepless nights and near breakdowns- and actual breakdowns. Fighting tooth and nail to keep his job, because it was the only thing that kept him sane. And now, irony of all ironies, he was losing it because everybody else thought he was insane, even though he was the only one who knew the truth.

It would be so easy, Lyor reflected, to blame Seth for this. He was the reason why all of this was happening, right? And not just Lyor getting caught talking to him- all of it. All of his self-destructive behaviour that had led him to this moment, every minuscule, agonising second, all of it stemmed from Taurasi. It was tempting to slide back into that warm, familiar anger. But, as Lyor took a look at Seth, stood beside him with his face drawn in frustrated, desperate remorse, he couldn’t conjure any of that old heat.

Seth hadn’t asked for any of this. He had no control. And Lyor used to think the same thing about himself- that he was just being batted around, caught in the tidal wave- and he had been furious about it. But now, he realised, the exact opposite was true. He had the most control out of anybody in this room, because he had something that none of them had: the truth.

The truth, not anger, was going to get him out of this. Even if the truth ran the risk of making Seth angry at him. Even if it made Seth hate him.

“Nah,” Lyor muttered, tearing his eyes from Seth and turning back to the rest of the group. “This isn’t happening. I’m not giving up my job.”

Seth’s grip around his wrist loosened. “Wait, what are you about to-?”

Keith coughed lightly, drowning out the rest of Seth’s words. “This isn’t really up for discussion-“

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Schuler!” Lyor barked, and for once, mercifully, the man listened. Lyor turned his attention solely to the President, who was watching him warily, unsure of what was going to come next. “You don’t need to fire me,” Lyor said simply, “because I’m not crazy.”

“Lyor, wait-“ Seth stammered out, high and panicked. Lyor powered on.

“Yes, I’ve been talking to Seth,” he said, and the atmosphere in the room thickened in a heartbeat. “But he’s not a hallucination.”

Aaron and Kendra exchanged glances. Schuler was quirking an eyebrow, like this was an unexpected plot twist in a TV show he was watching. Beside him, the President waited expectantly- perhaps still hoping that Lyor was going to give a reasonable explanation that would put all of this to bed.

Well, Lyor thought with a grimace as he braced himself for the reaction he knew he was about to get- he was sorry to disappoint.

“Seth’s not a hallucination, Lyor repeated. “He’s a ghost.”

The room was choked into silence. Lyor leaned back in his chair, gripping the armrests and trying to exude casual confidence. The others didn’t seem to know what to do with that revelation. Lyor wondered if they’d take this sort of thing a little more seriously if somebody like Kendra was the one saying it- someone who was known to believe in the supernatural. Lyor resented that possibility- as a known skeptic, surely this sort of claim from him should be given even more weight?

Then again, he realised, nobody gave any weight to the claims of the insane. And to them, that was what he was.

Aaron was the first to shatter the paper-thin silence, punching through it with a humourless huff.

“Don’t joke about that, man,” he said tensely.

“Oh, I’m _dead_ serious,” Lyor said, and chuckled a little despite himself. Aaron’s face darkened into an ugly scowl, and Lyor realised belatedly that perhaps this wasn’t the best time for jokes. Aaron was so stoic- such a typical macho man- all the time, that Lyor forgot sometimes just how sensitive he could be about things like, say, the death of his best friend.

Kendra didn’t sound annoyed- just sympathetic. That was so much worse. “You- you think you’re talking to Seth’s ghost?” she asked hesitantly.

Well, pity or not, at least she was engaging with him. Lyor latched onto that. “Mm,” he nodded. “For about eight weeks now. The problem is, only I can see or hear him.”

Aaron shook his head woodenly. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Oh, I realise it sounds ridiculous,” Lyor exclaimed. He leapt up from his seat and started pacing the room, waving his hands animatedly. The others shifted uncomfortably. Even Schuler, who still looked as though Christmas had come early, edged away a little, as if Lyor could infect him with the crazy if he got too close. Lyor ignored it, carrying on with his explanation.

“I thought I was going insane at first too, because he just seemed like a hallucination. I mean, his hand would just go through if he tried to touch me. So, I figured schizophrenia, right? Or something like that. But then...he proved it to me.” Lyor paused for a long second- he was never able to resist a touch of drama.

“He could read things I’d never seen before with 100% accuracy- that was what was happening the night I ran out, Kendra,” Lyor whirled to face her as he said it, gesturing excitedly. Kendra had a troubled look on her face- Lyor wondered if it was from her realising that, yes, Lyor had been able to read her texts and emails that he’d never seen before, or if she was becoming more and more disturbed by his insanity.

It didn’t really matter. Even if Lyor was on his way to convincing her, that wasn’t enough. He needed all of them to believe him.

“And then,” Lyor continued, “Seth became corporeal- he gets stronger, we think, through states of heightened emotion- and I couldn’t really deny it anymore. Not after he threw a mug against my wall. That’s how I got that cut on my hand, by the way, Aaron.”

Aaron couldn’t look him in the eye. None of them could. Lyor smiled crookedly. “Look at you all,” he murmured. “You think I’ve completely lost it, haven’t you? Well, I can prove it.” He gestured grandly to where Seth was standing. “Seth?”

Seth didn’t move.

Lyor gestured expectantly, but Seth wouldn’t have been able to see. His eyes were squeezed shut, face trapped in a grimace. His whole frame was frozen like marble.

“Seth?” Lyor prompted, licking his lips nervously. “A little help here would be nice.”

“Jesus...” Aaron muttered into his hands.

Lyor sucked in a breath, trying not to unravel. His whole plan here banked on Seth cooperating- if he didn’t, then Lyor may as well have just signed his termination papers himself. More than that, he would probably be dragged off to a psychiatric ward faster than he could say “ghost.”

Lyor thought Seth would understand. He thought that they were friends.

“Okay, I know this isn’t how you wanted to do it, and I’m sorry, but I am out of options here.” Lyor pressed, an edge of panic colouring his tone. Seth still didn’t respond.

“Lyor, stop this,” Tom begged, voice taut. “ _Please_.”

“No!” Lyor spun around to face the room, fishing around desperately for something, anything else that he could use to prove himself. He sucked in a cold breath of air, and - yes, the air! Even as Seth had grown almost lukewarm, his effect on the rooms he walked into stayed the same- the whole office was freezing.

“Can’t you feel how cold it is?” Lyor said urgently. “It shouldn’t be this cold, not in the summer. The temperature plummets whenever Seth is around.” As if his words suddenly snapped them all back to their senses, the others rubbed at their arms, frowning. Kendra shivered a little, but it seemed like more than just because of the cold- she looked uneasy, eyes flicking frantically across the room, peering into the furthest, shadowed corners.

Schuler folded his arms tightly across his chest. Even he was starting to look a little perturbed, eyeing Lyor with something that approached actual concern- this had clearly gone much further than he had expected. “So it’s a little chilly,” he burst out. “That’s not proof of anything.”

Lyor tore his fingers through his hair. “Well, I’d have more proof if Seth would actually _do something_ ,” he said. He tapped Seth on the chest- still solid, still there, so why wouldn’t he do anything? Lyor shoved Seth harder. “Come on,” he cried out. “All you have to do is move a chair. Hell, throw it against the room if you want, I don’t care- just do something!”

Faintly, Lyor wondered how he must look to the others. Ranting and raving about ghosts, yelling at someone who wasn’t there, trying to shove the empty air in front of him. He dared a glance back to see their reactions.

The President had his face buried in his hands. “I am so sorry, Lyor. I am so, so sorry,” he rasped, mumbling through parted fingers. “I should never have let you keep working as Press Secretary. You should never have been back at work in the first place. The stress was too much, and now...”

“I am not crazy!” Lyor yelled, taking a wild step forward, and Kendra flinched. At that, he froze. He slowly edged back, drawing his hands back uncertainly against his chest.

Kendra was scared of him.

He felt like something inside his chest was cracking in two. He couldn’t look at her anymore, not when she was staring at him with those big brown eyes like he could hurt her. Like he could _ever_ hurt her.

He turned back to the ghost beside him. “Seth,” he pleaded, almost a whisper. “What are you doing?”

The only thing that hurt more than Kendra being afraid of him, was knowing that Seth could put an end to it, but he wouldn’t. It tasted bitter and burning in Lyor’s throat- like betrayal.

Behind him, he could hear Schuler whispering to the President in urgent tones. “Look, sir, I hate to say it, but he’s clearly mentally unstable. I think it’s best for everyone if....”

Lyor tuned the rest out. He tuned everything out. None of it mattered. All that mattered right now was Seth. Lyor needed to get through to him. He reached out, cautious this time, and gripped Seth’s upper arms, kneading his fingers into soft flesh and hard bone. He was pressing deep enough to bruise, had he been touching a living person. Beneath his hands, Seth’s whole body was trembling like a leaf.

“Seth, please,” Lyor murmured. He pulled Seth closer. “Please. Do something.”

Without warning, Seth stumbled, his whole body tightening up as he choked on a stuttered gasp. His eyes cracked open, and they were brighter than ever as he gazed desperately at Lyor.

“I’m trying,” Seth cried out miserably.

Before Lyor could ask _what the fuck that could possibly mean_ , his attention was yanked away by a strangled shout. Aaron had nearly knocked a chair over in his haste to leap against the wall, slack jawed as he stared at Lyor.

“Oh fuck,” he yelped. “ _Fuck_.”

Slightly alarmed, Lyor turned to look at the rest of his coworkers. Schuler had gone a dangerous shade of grey- not at all complementary for his russet hair. “A-are you guys seeing this?” he was stammering, eyes bulging as he swivelled wildly back and forth between Kendra and Tom. “Tell me you’re all seeing this!”

The President had pushed his glasses back on his nose with trembling fingers. He seemed to have gone completely mute. Kendra had a hand pressed to her mouth, but she dropped it slightly, the first one to say anything close to coherent.

“Oh my god,” she breathed. Her hand descended to grasp at where Lyor knew a cross dangled from her neck. “Oh my god. Seth.”

Lyor blinked. He felt staggered. Did she just say what he thought she said? He looked back at Seth- who had an incredulous grin slowly stretching across his face- and then to the others again. They weren’t staring at him, he realised with a jolt- they were staring at Seth.

“You can see him?” Lyor asked disbelievingly. Slowly, dumbly, the others nodded.

Seth’s smile was bright enough to power the whole White House. His voice only shook a little when he spoke:

“Hey guys.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is- can you believe it?- actually happy!!! (Mostly.)


	15. Lazarus

After eight weeks of being imperceivable to all but Lyor- and his Alzheimer’s addled mother, who didn’t really count for much- having five sets of eyes fixed on him was enough to make Seth feel ridiculously self conscious. Not that this unexpected sheepishness was enough to put a damper on his mood- Seth was euphoric, smiling hard enough he felt like his jaw could fall off any second from the sheer strain of it.

He had done it. He had finally done it!

The others seemed caught in a paralysed silence. All of them- Aaron, Kendra, the President, even that new guy, Keith- were sizing him up disbelievingly; trying to figure out the butt of the joke, second-guessing their sanity. None of them looked happy, exactly, to see him, but Seth didn’t mind. That could come later. At least, at that moment, none of them seemed afraid of him. To Seth, that was all that mattered.

He turned instinctively to Lyor. The other man had collapsed back into his seat, limbs loose with breathless relief, and he had his head tipped back to survey the others with a glint of exhausted triumph in his eye.

“So,” he broke the silence, a tad peevishly. “Either I’m telling the truth, or we’re all crazy. And I know which one Congress would prefer.”

Seth ducked his head at the sting in those words. He hadn’t meant to leave Lyor hanging for that long. Watching the desperation and terror unfolding in Lyor’s gaze in those few short minutes had been horrifying for him- Seth couldn’t imagine how it must have been for Lyor. He definitely needed to make it up to his friend later. But, he just...he couldn’t stand the idea of just throwing some furniture around like some spook show. He’d needed to at least try, with all the strength he had, to appear. Seth still couldn’t quite believe that he’d managed it.

Lyor seemed to be thinking the same thing, staring up at Seth wonderingly.

“How are they able to see you?” he asked.

Seth opened his mouth, then closed it again; unsure. It seemed impossible to put into words. But, glancing at the still slack-jawed faces of his colleagues, Seth figured he had some time.

“You know how we thought I got stronger through channeling my emotions?” Seth started slowly, and Lyor nodded. “Well, I figured out that’s not it. I’m not pulling energy from inside myself. I...I think it’s coming from you.”

Lyor’s lips parted in surprise, but the more Seth explained himself, the more obvious it started to seem to him. All the times that Seth had gotten stronger, he’d been emotional, yes, but so had Lyor. When Seth smashed the mug, Lyor had been terrified. When Seth disappeared, Lyor had been angry. When he’d grown warmer in the graveyard, Lyor had been grief stricken. It was then that Seth had first started to suspect- he had almost been able to feel the violent energy seeping from Lyor’s pores. And now, when Lyor had been a hurricane of panic and horror and spitting betrayal, Seth had latched onto all of it, drawing it deep within himself until he could feel it flooding through to his very fingertips.

Before, it had been barely noticeable, but now, as he concentrated, Seth could feel something drawing him; as if by magnetic attraction, to Lyor. It was the same force that had guided him out of that sunken place, that purgatory, before he had woken up in Lyor’s bedroom all those weeks ago. It was like a thread stringing them together- and right then, it was almost crackling.

“This connection between us- it’s more than just proximity. It’s- it’s like electricity. Power,” Seth said, rubbing absently at his chest, as though he could wrap his fingers around the wire between them. “Can’t you feel it?”

By the way Lyor’s eyes were widening, Seth guessed that he could.

Seth glanced up at the others, suddenly conscious of how little sense all this would be making to everyone else in the office. Across the room, the President was nodding weakly.

“Right,” he said, down to business as always. Then, as if everything Seth was saying hit him at once, he squinted. “...What?”

A helpless peal of laughter bubbled from Seth’s throat. “Don’t worry about it,” he grinned.

The sound of his laughter seemed to finally break the spell laid on the room. Kendra was swiping at her eyes, a tearful smile spilling across her cheeks. She crept forward to lay a trembling hand on his arm. Seth’s eyes fluttered closed, staggered by the touch.

“It’s really you,” she breathed, fingers exploring, probing at the fabric of his jacket. “You’re really here.”

“In the flesh,” he said, then frowned. “Well, not flesh-“

Kendra flung her arms around his neck, and Seth lost his words. He froze for a second- almost forgetting how to hug someone- before snapping out of it and burying himself in Kendra’s embrace, wrapping his arms around her. The hug went on for about a full minute longer than what was probably considered socially acceptable, but for Seth it wasn’t nearly long enough. Lyor had allowed Seth to hug him, once, with a few scant touches scattered between, but nothing like this. Seth was touch starved to near insanity, and with Kendra’s soft hair brushing his cheek and her fingers tracing gentle circles against his back, he felt about ready to melt.

Eventually, Kendra pulled away, and Seth reluctantly dropped his arms. She was crying properly as she stepped back, but she managed a laugh through her tears.

“You’re so cold!” she exclaimed.

Seth chuckled. “I used to be colder.”

The sound of a chair slamming against the front of the President’s desk tore their attention to the unsteady form of Keith Schuler. He had sunken into a seat at some point, so quiet that Seth had forgotten about him, but now he was up again- dangerously pale and looking almost concussed.

“Okay,” he said definitively, and then he lost his nerve. “This is-“ he sucked in a breath, tried again. “Y-you’re-“ he raised a trembling finger to Seth.

Seth gave a little wave.

Keith’s jaw lolled. He glanced around wildly at the others, and then dropped his arm defeatedly. “I’m gonna go,” he squeaked, and stumbled out of the room, smacking into Aaron on his way and nearly tripping over his own feet.

Nobody watched him leave. But as he ripped the door open, leaving it swinging in his wake as he practically sprinted down the corridor, Mike poked his head in. He gaze the room a cursory scan, eyes sliding right over Seth, and his expression didn’t even twitch.

“Everything okay in here, sir?”

The President’s brow furrowed, head swinging between Seth and Mike like a medallion.

“You- you can’t see him?” he spluttered. Seth frowned. Mike merely quirked an eyebrow.

“...See who, sir?”

Seth glanced down at his hands thoughtfully. Did he have even more control than he thought?

“Huh,” he murmured. “I think I can control...who sees me?”

Mike was still peering around the room, as though there could be someone hiding in the shadows under the desk. Seth let his eyes slide closed, stepping into inky blackness. He cast around for the vibrating coil of energy, digging the barbs of his mind into it like he had the day he wanted to disappear. The coil hummed. Seth flexed.

It felt like ripping off a bandaid.

He opened his eyes again. Mike had stiffened like a plank of wood, not even blinking. Seth could sense the others holding their breath in anticipation. If he could, he would be too.

“Hi Mike,” Seth said, awkwardly waving and immediately feeling dumb for doing so. He gave the others a backwards glance, unsure of how to proceed. Lyor’s dramatic reveal had given him quite the lead up before, and he’d just been pulled along by the momentum. But now, he felt put on the spot.

He cleared his throat. May as well just get it done quickly. “Uh, so, quick recap- I’m a ghost, I’m attached to Lyor, and I’ve been back about eight weeks but I’ve only just been able to manifest in front of other people.”

Mike swallowed, shifting minutely to face the President. “Sir,” he said, voice forcefully steady. “Am I hallucinating, or is Seth Wright stood in the middle of your office?”

“You’re seeing right, Mike.”

Mike nodded once, sharply. There was still a hint of suspicion, but loyalty to the President evidently overruled any worry that he was losing his mind, and he stayed put. “...Right. Right, okay.” He shook his head. “Holy shit.”

There was a bark of humourless laughter. “You don’t say.”

Seth looked over- it was Aaron.

Seth’s stomach flipped. Aaron was the first person he had seen since coming back, the person he’d probably most wanted to talk to here in the White House. His best friend. Seth wanted to close the gap between them and wrap him up in a hug like he had with Kendra. Normally he would have done it already, but, there was something about Aaron’s expression that made him pause. A wariness.

Seth supposed it was fair, but it still hurt.

“Aaron,” Seth said, trying to keep a hold of his composure. “It’s been a while, man.”

Aaron swallowed roughly. His eyes were bright. ”Yeah, it’s-“ he cleared his throat weakly. “It’s good to see you.”

Seth left it at that. He’d already seen what could happen if he pushed too hard, too fast. If Aaron needed time, then Seth would just have to respect that. Besides, there was still one person he needed to greet.

He swivelled on his heel. There the President stood. Unlike Aaron, his face was open and unguarded, and this time Seth couldn’t keep his voice from cracking.

“Sir.”

“Seth-“

The President stepped out from behind his desk, and Seth surged forward, but as they drew closer there was a flurry of movement from the door.

“Woah, no,” Mike ordered, voice hard. “Sir, stay back.”

Seth halted in his tracks, turning to the Secret Service Agent confusedly. “Wha-? I wasn’t going to do anything-“

Mike’s tone was unrelenting. “Keep your distance.”

“What are you going to do with that? He’s already dead,” Seth heard Lyor scoff, and he followed the tense line of Mike’s arm to where his hand was resting warningly on the holster of his gun. Seth swallowed.

“Mike, what are you doing?” the President gasped. “It’s _Seth_.”

Mike tightened his jaw, not lowering his hand, eyes never leaving Seth. “Sorry sir,” he muttered. “I’m not clear on the protocol for...ghosts.”

The President floundered. “The protocol- the protocol- there is no protocol. He isn’t a threat, right Lyor?”

Lyor tipped his head back. “Right.”

“Alright then,” the President sighed. “Stand down, Mike.”

Mike hesitated, staring Seth down with calculating eyes. Seth stared back placatingly, eyes wide. Finally, _finally_ , Mike dropped his hand with a terse nod.

“Go ahead.” Seth’s shoulders slumped in relief, and Mike’s eyes softened. “Sorry about that.”

“S’fine,” Seth muttered, eyes already back on the President. Tom was grinning unabashedly, and Seth could feel his own mouth doing the same. Now that there was nothing stopping his approach, though, Seth faltered. Tom Kirkman was one of the most important people in his life, yes,- but he was also still his boss. He was still the President of the United States.

Seth stuck out a hand. Tom scoffed, eyes twinkling, and brushed it aside to pull Seth into a bone crushing hug.

Two hugs in the space of five minutes? Seth really had won the lottery. He sighed contentedly and leaned into the touch, barely resisting the temptation to bury his face in the President’s shoulder. Tom’s arms were strong and steady as they held Seth close. This hug didn’t last as long, but Seth found himself struggling to pull away. He contented himself with the hand the President kept clasped around his shoulder.

“You have no idea how good it is to see you,” he said. He wasn’t crying, but there was a storm of emotions running across his face.

Seth laughed a little. “You have no idea how good it is to talk to someone who isn’t Lyor. No offence,” he added, glancing back at his friend.

Lyor was still hunching in his chair, but his lips curled into a tired smirk as he looked up. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m tired of you as well.”

Seth grinned back. They were long past the point when Seth would have taken that seriously. He was about to shoot back with a quip of his own, riding high on lightheaded euphoria, when a low voice interrupted his train of thought.

“Eight weeks, you said?” It was Aaron again, from where he stood pressed against the far wall of the office. He was boring a hole into the carpet with his eyes, but as he spoke he dragged his head up. “You’ve been back eight weeks?”

“Yeah,” Seth said slowly.

Aaron’s voice was wrought with emotion. “ _Eight weeks_.” There was a fire in his eyes now- this was the Aaron Shore that Seth remembered. He almost wished it wasn’t, however, as he watched Aaron bound away from the wall, rounding on Lyor with animal ferocity.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell us before now?”

Lyor barely even looked up, but there was still venom in his words when he answered. “Are you joking? You seemed pretty gung ho for throwing me in the loony bin five minutes ago.”

Aaron gestured furiously at Seth, who had come to stand by Lyor’s chair. “You could have given us proof-!”

“Don’t blame him,” Seth cut in sharply. “Please.” He lay a reassuring hand on Lyor’s shoulder. Beneath his fingers, he could feel his friend trembling with tightly wound tension. He sighed. “I was the one who didn’t want to let you guys know. I wanted you to be able to see me. Before now, we didn’t even think that was possible.”

Aaron was still stiff shouldered and unrelenting, the muscles in his jaw working furiously as he stared at Seth. With a firm squeeze to Lyor’s arm, Seth stepped between the two of them.

“Hey, come on man,” he soothed. “I’m here now.” He raised his eyebrows, waited for Aaron to uncurl his fists. “We good?”

Aaron’s throat bobbed. He blinked rapidly, a flutter of eyelashes. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he said, voice rough. “Of course we’re good, Seth.”

The last knot of tension in Seth’s chest finally relaxed, and he dropped his head. And, because he was feeling greedy- but hey, after literally dying, Seth figured he’d earned it- he stepped in for another hug. There was a second of hesitation, as there always was from Aaron. But as the other man eased into it, he tightened his grip around Seth, fingers clutching at the back of his suit.

“I’ve missed you,” Seth mumbled into Aaron’s ear.

He felt Aaron’s chin dig forcefully into his shoulder. “I’ve missed you too.”

His friend pulled away, clearing his throat and manfully clapping Seth on the back as he looked away. Seth rolled his eyes in good humour, lips twitching- he couldn’t seem to stop smiling- but as his eyes caught on a shifting of movement, his grin dimmed slightly.

Lyor stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Alright, you all have a lot to catch up on.” He turned to the President, smile cold and limp. “I take it I’m no longer fired?”

Tom blinked, shaking his head bemusedly. “No, of course not.” His lips thinned. “Lyor, I’m sorry-“

“It’s fine,” Lyor said shortly, holding up a hand to silence the President. Even from Lyor, that sort of insubordination was jarring, and Seth winced. The man was still radiating tension, eyes deliberately glazing over where Aaron was standing. Seth had hoped that Lyor had gotten the meaning of the words he’d spoken to Aaron- meaning that he’d hoped the National Security Advisor had understood as well: being good with Seth meant being good with Lyor as well. They were a package deal. But Seth recognised the drawn look on Lyor’s face- he was utterly drained- and so he didn’t push it.

“I’ll be in my office.” Lyor’s eyes were only for Seth. “Is that okay?”

Seth sighed, did the calculations in his head- that was still close enough. “Yeah. See you later.”

Lyor sloped out the door without a backwards glance. Kendra kept her eyes on his retreating back, watching him go.

Tom squinted, glancing between Seth and the empty chair Lyor had left puzzlingly.

“You two must be pretty close now,” he said curiously. After a second, it clicked that the President was wondering about their last little exchange- that probably seemed shockingly co-dependant, especially considering the tension that had been a staple of his and Lyor’s relationship before Seth had died.

“Oh, it’s another arbitrary ghost rule,” he explained flippantly. “We can only go about 600 feet away from each other or I end up back next to him again.” He snorted, bypassing the many scattered chairs in favour of flopping bodily onto one of the couches in the centre of the room. “Means I’ve basically been stuck around here. Had nothing to do but follow you guys around. I mean, not in a creepy way, just, y’know...”

Seth caught his rambling before it got out of hand, sniggering into his fist. “Sorry.”

He had eight weeks worth of conversation just itching to spill out, and with how giddy he was feeling, it was hard to keep it under control.

Kendra was still staring at the door Lyor had exited out of, and as Seth pulled himself into a sitting position, she stood.

“I actually...need to talk to him,” she explained apologetically to Seth’s questioning look. She gave him one last sunny smile. “Don’t you go anywhere, okay? We have a lot of catching up to do.”

Seth inclined his head, eyes warm. “I’ll be here.”

He couldn’t complain as he watched Kendra chase after Lyor. He was glad somebody was, since he couldn’t- he wasn’t able to tear himself away just yet. It was sweet, really. Lyor could have a really good thing going there- if he stopped being dense for once.

But Seth didn’t want to think about that at the moment. Now, finally, his world had expanded beyond Lyor, and Seth wanted to bask in every inch of it. What should he do now? He could talk to his friends as much as he wanted, do whatever he liked. The bright, dazzling freedom of it all was almost paralysing. Before, he’d been bursting at the seams with the need to talk, talk, talk- but now, he couldn’t think where to even begin.

Aaron slowly crossed the room to join Seth on the couch, shoulders brushing his, and Seth’s heart sang. He grinned at his friend, who gave an experimental smile back. Then, mercifully, as the President settled himself on the couch opposite, Aaron started the talking.

“So, you’ve been living with Lyor this whole time. And you haven’t killed him yet.” They all chuckled. With every passing second, Aaron’s face was losing its uncertain shadow, and with it, Seth’s barely lingering anxieties. Aaron shook his head mirthfully. “How’s that been?”

“Surprisingly okay,” Seth said, still laughing a little. “He’s a good guy, once you get past all the...Lyor-ness.” Aaron snorted, and Seth pushed on in earnest, feeling obligated to defend his friend. “It took some time, but he’s really come through. I mean, he even took me to see my parents.”

The others’ eyes softened at that. And that was only the tip of it, Seth thought privately. There had been some difficulties, Seth wouldn’t lie, but over the last few weeks especially, Lyor really had done more than Seth had ever expected. Even with all the snark and reluctance, Lyor had never failed to be what Seth needed- even when it was painful for him.

Lyor had been great. And not just ‘great for Lyor.’ He really was a good friend; a good man.

For Aaron though, Seth remembered belatedly, that might be a little hard to swallow. He quirked his lips ruefully. “I’m sorry he’s been such a prick to you.”

Aaron looked confused for a second, before his face cleared. “I keep forgetting that you’ve been here pretty much this whole time,” he said sheepishly.

Oh yeah, Seth had seen it all. Though, to be fair, Lyor being a prick to Aaron would be a pretty safe assumption to make. Aaron’s eyes were narrowed, probably scanning back through the last eight weeks to see what Seth could know, and he was about to cheekily reassure him that, no, he hadn’t spied on anything too private, when the President spoke.

“So,” he sighed, grave. “You know everything?”

Seth dropped his eyes. Beside him, he could feel Aaron tensing a little. Tom didn’t have to clarify- they both knew exactly what he was talking about.

“...Yeah,” Seth admitted. He fiddled with his cuffs, mouth tightening into the familiar frown for when he thought about Emily. And he thought about her a lot. He’d spent too much energy agonising over all the ways she’d shattered his trust, and taken him for a fool through all of it. Seth didn’t want Emily to ruin this moment for him too.

“Let’s not talk about that,” he said, forcefully cheery. “I want to know what’s been happening for you guys- not here, in your actual lives.” He turned to the President, who still looked crestfallen. “How’re Penny and Leo? And your brother? C’mon, I wanna know everything.”

The President took a deep breath, and started telling Seth about Leo getting accepted into Stanford. Soon Aaron joined in, and Mike as well, and the slow trickle of conversation turned to a torrent. Seth let himself get lost in it; in the way the President couldn’t go three seconds without glancing at him, or how Aaron had slung his arm over the back of the couch in a near embrace.

It was hard to believe that they spent hours like that, but eventually, Seth caught Aaron stifling a yawn behind his fist.

“I...should probably get going,” Aaron said. Seth tried not to let the flash of panic in his gut sneak across his face. This wasn’t the end, he reminded himself. They had all the time in the world.

“Right, yeah, you need to sleep.” Seth had almost forgotten what that felt like. “Go on, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Tomorrow, Seth thought giddily, and the next, and the next, and the next.

Aaron gave him a lingering squeeze on the shoulder before slipping out of the room, past Mike, who was standing guard at the door. After exchanging looks with the President, Mike stepped out as well, leaving the two of them alone.

Tom stood up from the couch, and Seth worried that he was going to leave as well. Tomorrow or not, Seth didn’t want this to end yet. But the President merely crossed the room to his desk. There was a clinking of glass, and Seth smiled appreciatively as he pulled out a bottle of scotch and a glass.

“I’d offer you one,” Tom said, pouring himself a healthy helping and coming to sit back down, “but I’m guessing ghosts can’t drink.”

“No. Unfortunately.”

Tom hesitated as he brought the glass to his lips. “Do you mind?”

Seth shrugged. “Go ahead.”

Tom shook his head wearily. “After this night, I need one.” He downed half the glass in one go, and Seth couldn’t help a shiver of jealousy as he watched the cool amber liquid slide down his throat. He missed scotch- and that looked like the good kind, too.

The President was looking at him again, smiling that soft little smile. “I don’t know how we managed to get so lucky, but I really am just so happy to see you,” he murmured, and Seth ducked his head. “Honestly, I don’t know what to say.”

Seth laughed breathlessly. “I know the feeling.”

The President stared pensively into his glass, and a sudden uneasy air rose between them. “Actually, Seth, there is something,” he sighed. “I need to apologise to you-“

Seth shook his head fervently. “Oh, no, sir-“

“I wish I’d never sent you to Taurasi,” Tom said harshly, eyes bright. “I regret it every day.”

“Really, sir, please. There’s nothing to apologise for.” Seth didn’t want there to be any more guilt because of him.

The President smiled sadly. “Lyor blames me for your death,” he murmured. “He hasn’t said it, but I know.”

Seth’s eyes slid closed. How much damage had his death done, that he was still discovering? “Lyor blames himself,” he said heavily, and Tom grimaced. “So, trust me, I’ve gotten enough of the guilt from him. Neither of you could have seen this coming. Don’t blame yourself.”

Tom’s nod was unconvincing, but Seth got the feeling this was a battle he was never going to win.

“Actually,” he continued, “I want to thank you.”

Tom blinked. “Thank me? For what?”

Seth shrugged, thinking back to the last time he’d spoken to the President, when he thought he’d never get to be heard. “For...everything, I suppose. I never told you when I was alive, and then...I thought I’d never get the chance for you to hear it. I’m not leaving things to chance anymore.”

Tom hid a smile behind the rim of his glass. “I should be thanking you. You were the greatest Press Secretary I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only Press Secretary you’ve ever had,” Seth countered with a smirk. “Carter doesn’t count.” Tom chuckled- they both remembered the walking anxiety disorder that was Seth’s immediate predecessor. Seth tapped his knee agitatedly. “Neither does Lyor,” he added meaningfully, and the President dropped his head.

“You’re going to have to replace me at some point.”

“I know, I know. Here, look.” Abruptly, Tom stood, crossing to his desk and digging around in a drawer. He returned with a piece of paper, and Seth recognised the focused penmanship as Aaron’s. It was a list of names.

“If I can’t have you, I can at least have your opinion,” he said.

Seth pursed his lips, studying the page. They were all excellent choices, but... “My pick would be Rosemary Alvarez,” he said.

There he was, passing the torch. He didn’t feel any lighter.

The President nodded thoughtfully. His hands hesitated as he took the page back.

“In the meantime...” he blurted out, as though his thoughts were escaping him before they could be filtered. “I assume you haven’t got much else on your schedule. And like I said, you’re a phenomenal Press Secretary. I know you can’t step back into your old role, but...” he fixed Seth with a resolute stare. “I want to see you in the White House again.”

Seth’s eyes widened. “You mean...working with you?”

Tom smiled. “Think of it as an advisory position. Unpaid, of course. I don’t think I can put a ghost on the payroll.”

“There goes my pension fund.”

Tom burst out laughing. Even as he sobered, warmth lingered in his eyes. “Seth, I want you by my side,” he said firmly. “For as long as you’re willing.”

Seth leaned back into the couch. He remembered the time- and it felt so long ago now- that the President has first asked him to be his Press Secretary. That had been one of the proudest moments of his life, but it was nothing compared to this. This was the first time since dying, Seth realised, that he’d felt truly happy.

He echoed his words from that time, long ago. “It’d be my honour, Mr President.”

**—**

Lyor felt like he was being squashed by gravity, a colossal weight bearing down on his chest. Not a panic attack, but close- he could feel his skin crawling with anxiety. He’d only just managed to make in to the safety of his office before he’d broken down into uncontrollable shaking. He should be happy. He _was_ happy- Seth was freer than ever. But it was as if his circuits had overloaded from too many emotions all at once, and these aftershocks of terror were all he could manage. He was stretched out on the couch, arms wrapped around himself, pressure still burning behind his eyes. There was no danger anymore, but all his brain cells were still screaming in unison. Anxiety, Lyor reflected sourly, was utterly ridiculous.

At least he’d stopped shaking.

He pressed his nose into the cool leather of the couch. It was stiff and unrelenting from disuse. Lyor preferred to lounge on the one in Kendra’s office these days. But he couldn’t go there now. His fingers instinctively curled in on themselves. _Kendra_.

Was he angry? No, he didn’t think so. Maybe hurt. But mostly he just wanted to erase that image of her staring at him with fear in her eyes.

“Hey there, ghost whisperer.”

Lyor’s heart thudded. As if she’d been summoned by his thoughts, Kendra stood in his doorway, smiling down at him.

“...Hi.” Lyor couldn’t understand why she’d be here, but he still drew his knees up to his chest to make space, a silent invitation. Kendra took it, settling down beside him. Was it his imagination, or had her hand ghosted across his hip as she did?

“I thought you’d want to spend time with Seth?”

Kendra hummed- and yes, her hand was on his knee now, a comforting weight. Still though, Lyor could feel the aching in his chest tightening. “I have plenty of time for that now, thanks to you. You’ve really been holding out on us, huh?”

Lyor pulled his arms tighter around himself, not daring to look up at her. He’d never felt so uncertain before. “Are you angry?”

“No, of course not,” she chided gently, and her hand was drawing circles now, kneading his tension away. “I’m...” she sighed. “I don’t really know how I’m feeling, honestly. Lots of emotions right now, but anger isn’t one of them.”

Her hand paused. “I actually thought you’d be angry at me.”

Lyor’s lips twitched into a half-smile. “It’s fine,” he mumbled. “You made the right call. I’d have been trying to get me fired as well, if I were you.”

He slowly pulled himself up into a slump of a sitting position. Schuler might have revelled in this, but Lyor knew, deep down, that the others had just been doing their jobs- doing, actually, exactly what Lyor would have been instructing them to do if this was anyone else. And Kendra, she’d just been looking out for him. Like she always did. Her hand had returned to his knee, and his own, where it was nestled on his lap, twitched slightly, reaching out.

Kendra watched his hand snake across to brush against hers, slow and hesitant. Her eyes were almost sad, almost peaceful; all tender. They were big and liquid-brown and endless as she caught his gaze with them.

“You’ve been carrying this for so long,” she murmured. Her fingers trembled over his. “I’m just glad you’re okay, Lyor. I mean it.”

Kendra leaned forward, inches disappearing between them. Lyor didn’t move; couldn’t move. His eyes slipped closed as she pressed a kiss, gentle as a whisper, to his cheek. The last of the pressure in his chest disappeared, and he could breathe freely again. Lyor carefully turned his head slightly away, both their gazes matching on some undefined point in he distance. He was so aware of her now, her emanating warmth and gentle touch, the feeling of her lips; so close to his own- and damn him, but Seth had been right this whole time.

But the thought of tilting his head ever so slightly, meeting Kendra’s eyes, leaning in- no, Lyor couldn’t bring himself to do it. It wasn’t a risk he was willing to take, not now. All it could be was a fantasy; his newest secret. So he kept his eyes away, contended himself with just that moment; sitting alone with Kendra, heart beating slow.

He couldn’t forget, though, the way his skin where Kendra had brushed her lips burnt red-hot like a brand, long after she pulled away.

 


	16. The New Normal

Seth was bouncing on his heels, dragging a zombie-like Lyor through the entrance to the White House and racing down the West Wing corridors to the morning meeting with the President. Lyor might have wanted to do nothing but sleep, but Seth was kinetic, vibrating with barely contained excitement.

Today was his first day back at work.

Well, maybe not technically his first day back, and maybe he technically wasn’t a member of senior staff anymore, but Seth couldn’t care less about semantics. All that mattered to him was that he was going to be there by his friends’ sides, and they would know it. Finally, he wasn’t just the shadow in the corner of the room. Finally, he could be a part of something again.

“Good morning, everyone,” the President greeted as they all filed into his office. He reserved a special smile for Seth, which he returned giddily. Seth’s excitement was infectious as it leaked out of him, and Aaron and Kendra couldn’t hide the delight brightening their faces. Even Lyor, who still looked dead to the world, was smiling; a fond curve of the lips.

The only one who didn’t look ecstatic to see him was Keith Schuler. He had choked on air the second he saw Seth stride into the Oval Office behind Lyor, and even now, he still looked like he’d seen....well, a ghost. Honestly, Seth reckoned he was a real trooper for even showing up for work, considering the state he’d left in the night before.

Keith was still twitching as the President began their meeting, eyes perpetually sliding back to Seth every few seconds. He flicked his tongue across his lips agitatedly.

“Is this, uh...Is this going to be the situation from now on?” he squeaked. Beside Seth, Lyor smirked into his fist.

The President smiled benignly. “Seth has agreed to step back in, to a certain capacity,” he explained. “His expertise is invaluable.”

“Good to be back,” Seth beamed. Keith gulped, seemingly transfixed by the movement of his lips, and Seth felt a stab of dark amusement.

“Of course,” he muttered, head bowing under the weight of the expectant stares all around. The President nodded in satisfaction, and they began. As eager as Seth had been to step back into the ring, now that he was in the spotlight, it was a little overwhelming. Seth kept quiet, fighting the childish urge to hide behind Lyor like a little boy shying from strangers. But with the President’s gentle prompting, and Kendra’s encouraging smiles, and the firm press of Lyor’s shoulder against his, Seth slowly drew himself out.

He could hear himself tripping over his own tongue in the beginning, fumbling his words- it had been so long since he’d been heard by this many people- but no matter how out of practice he was, words would always be Seth’s craft. It was like slipping back into a well worn jacket, and with eight weeks spent chewing on the issues they were tackling under his belt, he felt well prepared.

Prepared enough that even Keith’s aggravated sigh midway through didn’t throw him.

“I’m sorry, Mr President-“ Keith paused, gaping incredulously- he was having even more trouble with his words than Seth. Finally, he spluttered out: “I mean- this is- Are we really just going to pretend that this is normal? How can we expect this to work out?”

A deadly silence fell over the room. Seth didn’t respond- he didn’t have to. Lyor’s dangerously arched eyebrows were answer enough. Kendra was shooting icy daggers with her eyes, and Aaron had stepped forward, arms folded across his chest, as if daring Keith to do something about it.

The President smiled flatly. “Is there an issue, Keith?”

Keith swallowed roughly, shooting Seth a glance out of the corner of his eye. Seth stared right back.

“....No, sir.”

“Good.” Tom’s smile smoothed out into something genuine as he nodded to Seth. “Now, Seth, as you were saying....”

 

* * *

Seth really should have seen this coming. He’d always known that Lyor didn’t have a subtle bone in his body. He’d always known that his friend would never miss an opportunity to stir up drama. But when Seth suggested that they should let Tricia Simms in on their little secret- so that she could actually do her job properly, if nothing else- he had dared to hope that Lyor would approach the subject with at least a hint of tact.

“Hey Tricia,” Seth heard Lyor saying as he led his assistant into his office. “You want to see something cool?”

Yeah, Seth definitely should have known better.

Tricia was peering around dubiously, and as Lyor gestured impatiently, Seth materialised with his eyes already rolling.

“Really, man?” Seth huffed, and Tricia clapped a hand to her mouth. “That’s your lead-in?”

“What the fuck-?” Tricia squeaked.

Lyor shrugged. “Eh, she can handle it.”

Tricia seemed to be just as tough as Lyor had expected, because she didn’t turn tail. Seth stared her down, and she stared right back, expression fluttering between shock and fear and a wary curiosity.

“You’re- you’re Seth Wright,” she said, glancing sideways to her boss, just to make sure her eyes weren’t tricking her. Lyor was reclined in his chair, smirking cryptically.

Seth decided he would make this easy on the poor girl. “Yep.”

“You died in April,” she continued, almost accusingly. “So that makes you.....a ghost.” Her eyes widened as she said it, as if she couldn’t believe what was coming out of her mouth, but there wasn’t a shred of uncertainty in her voice.

“You catch on quick,” Seth said grinningly. The explanation never got easier, exactly, but it certainly got more entertaining- he quite enjoyed making people’s eyes bulge out of their heads.

Tricia’s eyes weren’t bulging though. They were gleaming.

“...That is _so cool,_ ” she breathed.

Seth let out a startled laugh. That was new. As Tricia launched into a relentless barrage of questions, hungry for knowledge on all things paranormal, Lyor crossed his arms in satisfaction. There was something almost like pride on his face as he watched the interrogation unfold. Seth had never had much to do with Tricia Simms when he was alive, but as he tried to keep up with all her rapid-fire questions, he started to see why Lyor liked her so much.

 

* * *

Seth had mapped out the West Wing down to minute detail over the last eight weeks, counting out the amount of steps it took to pass through every corridor and memorising every painting on the walls. But the one place he’d always skirted around was the Chief of Staff’s office. That place held too many sour connotations- too many ghosts, even for him. But the office wasn’t vacant anymore, and now it symbolised something very different.

He melted through the door. The chill he brought with him must have become commonplace enough to be unnoticeable, because Keith didn’t raise his ginger head until Seth cleared his throat.

“Hey, Keith,” Seth greeted brightly, and the man’s spine snapped straight. “It just occurred to me- we’ve never formally met.” He stuck out a hand. “Seth Wright.”

Keith tried to disguise his wince as he gave Seth’s hand a limp shake. He almost succeeded.

“You mind if I sit?” He sat anyway.

“...Sure thing.”

Seth stretched out in his chair, letting Keith stew for a good minute. He glanced around the office. There had been some changes since Emily had left- just minor details, but enough of a shift to weigh on the back of Seth’s mind. He couldn’t decide if it was worse than the office being left like it had been. Like a tomb.

Keith looked like he was ready to make a break for the door- or possibly out the window- so Seth broke the silence. He wasn’t about to go easy though. He gave the other man a hard look. “You scared of me, Keith?”

There was an explosion of affronted spluttering and huffing, Seth just coolly raised an eyebrow to it all. For someone so two-faced, Keith was a terrible actor.

“Oh, no, I-I just, uh-“ Keith cut himself off as Seth chuckled quietly.

“Relax, I get it,” he said with an easy smile. Keith did seem to relax a fraction, loosening his iron-rigid form. “This is all new- you don’t know anything about me,” Seth continued. “Even when I know all about you.” He felt warmed by grim satisfaction as that momentary relaxation dropped like a sheet from Keith’s face.

“Yeah, I’ve been hanging around. I’ve seen the way you treat Lyor. And I don’t like it.”

Keith’s nostrils flared. He didn’t waste Seth’s time with his charming, faux innocent play-acting, which Seth appreciated. Apparently, Keith only toadied around people he needed to impress- and Seth wasn’t one of them.

“Please, this is nothing. You didn’t know him five years ago-“

“No,” Seth interrupted coolly. “But I know him now, and I know that whatever he did to you, he had a good reason for it. So he chewed you out for a shitty job five years ago- so what? That was _five years ago_. You’re trying to destroy his career _today_.”

Keith opened his mouth, but Seth snapped it shut with a glare.

“Lyor can be a grade-A asshole. Trust me, I know. But I also know that there is no way it could have justified that stunt you pulled.”

The jibes, the passive-aggressive mockery, the subtle power plays- all of those Seth could abide. God knows Lyor could handle worse than that, and give just as bad as he got while he was at it. But Seth was never going to look past the night he dragged in Lyor in front of the President and all the senior staff and orchestrated a public firing and- if Seth hadn’t stepped in- a public meltdown. Not now, not ever.

Seth was still glaring, but this time, Keith couldn’t help himself. “I was acting in the best interests of the White House, okay? For all I knew, he was mentally unstable. I was doing what I had to do-“

“Oh, so you had to make a spectacle of it?” Seth’s voice was sub-zero. He wasn’t angry about the decision to dismiss Lyor- even he could understand that. But that wasn’t what Seth remembered most about that night- the thing he remembered most vividly was Keith’s smug face as he watched Lyor unravel in front of everyone.

“You weren’t doing that for anyone but yourself. You didn’t bring Aaron in because he used to be Chief of Staff. You brought him because you know he and Lyor don’t get on, and you wanted to maximise Lyor’s humiliation as much as possible. You wanted to _hurt_ him.”

Before, Seth had been playing a bit, taking a wicked sort of pleasure at getting to play the bad cop. But now he was nothing but serious. Now, he was furious- and it showed.

“Here’s the thing, Keith,” Seth’s voice was low and dangerous. “I care about Lyor- an awful lot. So I’m telling you now to back the hell off.”

This sort of overwhelming fierceness of emotion wasn’t something Seth would ever expected to associate with Lyor before. Sure, he’d liked the guy when he was alive- in a reluctant sort of way, in the same way you couldn’t help but grow fond of a song you once found annoying after it’s played over and over. But Lyor was so much more to him than that now. They had fallen solidly into friendship, but even during their rocky beginning there had been something drawing them together- they had become the centre of each other’s worlds, whether they’d liked it or not.

Lyor, for better or worse, was the most important thing in Seth’s life- his afterlife- his entire existence. And Seth protected his own.

Keith was still pale with offence, but there was an agitated twitch to his jaw. He licked his lips anxiously. “...Are you threatening me?”

Seth leaned across the desk. He grinned; all teeth. “I’ve thrown mugs across rooms before- you don’t look much heavier. And the thing about ghosts is...”

He rapped on the desk. His knuckles thudded ominously against the wood.

“You can’t hit back.”

Okay, so maybe Seth would never actually hurl Keith across a room, asshole or not, but...Keith didn’t have to know that, did he? There was a certain liberation to being dead, to being held accountable by absolutely nobody, and Seth couldn’t help but abuse that a little. He wasn’t above using a little innocent intimidation- not when Keith was so fond of using it himself, and especially not when it was for such a worthy cause. Seth had a message to send: nobody fucked with Lyor.

He’d been through enough already.

Keith was sweating. Fear suited him, Seth thought smugly.

“Good talk,” Seth said, smiling sweetly. He had a spring in his step as he left the room.

 

* * *

 

 Seth watched, content in the Press Room for the first time in what felt like forever, as Rosemary Alvarez- the White House’s new Press Secretary, took to the podium. He didn’t think he’d ever be completely used to seeing someone else in the position he still couldn’t help but think of as his, but if Seth absolutely had to pass the torch, he’d definitely found the best person to bear the weight. Rosemary was like a breath of fresh air for the administration; whip-smart, unflappable, and- when she deigned to have a go at any reporters- bitingly funny. For the first time, it looked like the White House was finally getting back on the right track.

“She’s good,” Seth said, watching as Rosemary effortlessly sidestepped Simon Day’s pointed interrogations. Some things never changed.

Kendra, beside him, murmured in agreement. From where they were standing, tucked in the shadow of the far doorway, and with all eyes on the new Press Secretary, Kendra didn’t have to be afraid of speaking to him in hushed tones. It had become second nature to the others at this point, instinctively knowing where it was safe to talk to Seth and where they had to be careful. It was something that Rosemary would get used to as well at some point, he supposed. They hadn’t let her in on their joint secret yet, collectively deciding it was better to let her settle in before dropping the ghost bombshell on her, so they wouldn’t scare her off.

Not that she looked like the sort of woman that could spook easily, but it was better to be cautious.

She had probably already suspected that there was something amiss. She’d heard the rumours by now- Seth had cultivated a sort of folk legend status among the junior staffers as ‘the Break Room Ghost,’ mostly because he had a habit of setting off the microwave and swinging open cabinets as people walked passed, just to make them squeak. Mike had been tasked with keeping him in line, which would have worked- if he didn’t think it was hilarious.

Rosemary had accepted these ghost stories with the same good humoured flippancy as any sensible person would receive tales of ancient, bustling buildings being haunted. But it would be impossible not to pick up on the air of secrecy that blanketed the other members of Senior Staff. A ghost was an impossibly big secret to keep, after all.

The briefing was wrapping up, Rosemary sending off the gathered reporters with a professional smile. Next to him, Kendra was smiling as well.

“She’s good,” she said, and nudged him playfully. “But not as good as you.”

“Well, I’m a tough act to follow.”

They slipped into the adjoining corridor, letting their voices fill up the empty space. Even when he knew only the people he wanted to could hear him, Seth still lowered his voice in crowded rooms. It was strange, what had become muscle memory for him. That was a holdover from being alive, but there were things from those first eight weeks- The Dark Ages, Seth had affectionately nicknamed them- that he couldn’t shake. Even three weeks after revealing himself, Seth sometimes still forgot to respond when people spoke to him, instinctively expecting that they were talking to someone else.

Conversations were becoming easier every day, though. Especially ones with Kendra. “She’s definitely better than Lyor,” Seth said, and Kendra snorted out a laugh.

“Oh my god, yes.” Then, hastily: “Don’t tell him I said that.”

“My lips are sealed,” he chuckled. “At least he’ll have some free time now.”

Kendra gave a sigh, rolling her eyes exasperatedly. “Like Lyor would ever put free time to good use.”

Lyor was still working himself to the wire, even with how exhausted he’d been lately. Seth wasn’t sure if Lyor still felt the need to punish himself, or if he even consciously realised that was what he was doing, but regardless, nothing Seth said or did seemed to be successful in dragging him away from the White House. It hurt, knowing that he couldn’t fix everything. But, he pondered, eyes catching on the brightness of Kendra’s kind eyes, he could certainly fix _one_ thing. He did have to make it up to Lyor for leaving him hanging three weeks ago, after all, and he had in mind the perfect gift.

“Maybe he just needs someone to give him a reason,” he said airily. He left a pointed pause hanging in the air, gaze deliberate and heavy as he stared at Kendra. She stared back.

“What are you trying to say, Seth?” Despite her nonchalance, Kendra couldn’t hide the smile toying at the corner of her lips, or the faint blush heating her face.

“Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” Seth cleared his throat. “Oh, uh, completely unrelated- Lyor likes Italian food.”

He gave her a cheeky wink and squeezed her hand meaningfully, trying not to look too self-satisfied as he caught sight of the thoughtful gleam lighting up Kendra’s eyes.

 

* * *

The President’s office was startlingly quiet, the only sound punctuating the lamp-lit silence being the rustling of pages and the even breathing of the man himself, sitting alone at his desk. It was a peaceful image. Seth didn’t want to shatter it, so he restrained his knuckles to skimming the surface of the door as he knocked, trepidation in every beat. The President, he knew, had an open-door policy- one that especially applied to him- but dropping in for a casual chat with his boss still seemed jarringly unorthodox. It just wasn’t done.

Then again, how long had it been since things were normal for Seth?

The President’s face was alight as he glanced up from what he was reading, so Seth felt a little more secure in himself as he took a step into the room.

“Good evening, Seth,” Tom greeted. There was a three-part cycle of emotions that consistently flashed across his face whenever they crossed paths, even now. Seth counted each one out, exact down to the second one morphed into another. First, there was the half-remembered confusion, as if the President knew there was a reason this shouldn’t be happening, but it seemed so normal that he couldn’t recall why. Then the realisation; a sharp spasm of agony, aftershocks of grief. And then, finally, gleaming astonishment. It was perfectly, painfully predictable.

“Not with Lyor tonight?” The President asked after Seth had returned the greeting.

“He’s in his office,” Seth said by way of explanation as he took a seat. “With _Kendra_.”

“Ah.” Tim smiled knowingly. So, apparently, Seth hadn’t been the only one to pick up on that particular tension. It seemed like everybody in D.C knew that Lyor and Kendra had it bad for each other- everyone except for Lyor, that is.

He grinned. “I got tired of third-wheeling.”

There were other places he could have gone. There was always Aaron, or Mike, or even Tricia. If he was really desperate, he could have been spending the evening bothering Keith and making Lyor proud in the process. But on some nights- especially the times when Lyor was all wrapped up in Kendra, feeling as far away as he could possibly get- Seth felt a little too adrift for friendly chit-chat. On these nights, he liked a presence as steadfastly reassuring as the President’s.

They didn’t need to talk, so they rode out the next few minutes in a companionable silence; Tom frowning new lines into his face as he read his documents, Seth sinking himself into his chair and reminding himself what it was like to feel tired. As he pondered the ceiling, though, he could feel holes being bored into his profile, and he turned questioningly to the President. He had abandoned his paperwork, and he frowned contritely when Seth caught him staring, but didn’t relent.

“How did he do it?” Tom finally asked, and Seth cocked his head.

The President thinned his lips. “Sorry, what I mean is- Seth, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask. It’s never felt like the right time, before, but...” he whistled out air through his nostrils. “How did Lyor bring you back?”

Seth straightened slowly, mind grappling with the question. This wasn’t what he expected. “He.....he didn’t bring me back,” he frowned. “This just happened- don’t ask me how, or why, because I have no clue. Neither of us do.”

Disappointment flickered across Tom’s face like a shadow. Seth, too, felt unsettled. That question opened a can of worms he wasn’t sure he was interested in poking that night. If Lyor had known how- if that were even possible- would he have chosen to bring Seth back? Doubtful. 

“You two seem to have this connection,” the President was explaining. “I just assumed...” he sighed heavily. “So, you have no idea? You don’t know how to...reach other spirits?” With every word, the President seemed to be losing resolve, but he still mumbled out the end of his question. “Even just to talk?”

Seth’s eyes slipped closed.

“Sir....” he murmured, words squeezing past his sympathy-tightened throat. “I can’t reach her. I wouldn’t even know how.”

The President’s eyes went through Seth, far, far past the walls of the office, peering somewhere nobody else could see. His voice seemed to be coming from there as well, a distant echo.

“When you came back...I thought it was a miracle.” Tom shook his head slightly. “It _is_ a miracle. And you know? For the first time in a- a long time, I had faith again. And I thought, maybe-“

His fingers twitched desperately.

“If it’s possible for you, it’s possible for Alex, right?”

Tom’s voice was ragged with hope, and Seth had to look away. What could he say to that? There would be a comfort in lying, for both of them, but he knew Tom would see straight through that. The truth was glaring them in the face; if Alex could come back, she would have done it already. Holding on to anything other than that...it was only scratching open a wound that had only just started to begin healing over.

Seth’s silence was the nail in the coffin. Tom’s head fell into his hands with a soft thump, the line of his shoulders quaking imperceptibly.

“I don’t understand,” he cried out bitterly. “Why not her? Why wouldn’t she come back?”

Seth didn’t think there was anything he could say that could make this better. He had to try anyway. “Maybe...maybe it’s because.....when she died, she was at peace, y’know?”

Tom made an awful choking noise at the back of his throat.

Seth hurried on. “She’d just beaten Forstell, she was happy. It was so quick, she-she wouldn’t have even known, before-“

He had to stop himself there, for both their sakes. Seth didn’t even know if what he was saying was true- there could have been a minute, even a split-second, when the First Lady had seen those headlights approaching, felt the crush of metal, and _known_ \- but Seth hoped beyond anything that she hadn’t. He could still remember that fear, the way it had risen up to squash the air out of his lungs the moment it had clicked that in a matter of minutes, he was going to be dead.

Tom had scrabbled for some composure, and his hands slid away from his face, revealing the gaunt shell cradled underneath. Seth felt guilty for even seeing the President this raw and fragile, but he couldn’t bring himself to move, not even to look away.

“There’s so much I want her to see,” Tom whispered brokenly, more to himself now than to Seth. “She deserves to watch Penny grow up. And Leo- god, he’s become a man so fast. He wants to study law, you know? He wants to be just like her. She’d be so proud.” He sucked in a rattling breath.

“The kids deserve to have their mother. And- and I...I just want to see her, even just once more.” His eyes were pleading as he turned to Seth, as if he could give that to him. “One more morning to wake up next to her. You know I even miss our arguments? Whenever I say something stupid, I still expect to turn around and see her rolling her eyes at me.” He choked out a laugh then, but it dwindled away to nothing in a second. “Just to be able to hold her again. Even to hear her voice. He paused. “She left me a voicemail, right before she died. She-she told me that she loved me.” His voice broke. “If I could just get to say it back.”

His eyes were glazed over, shimmering with unshed tears.

“Just one more time....”

“I’m sorry,” Seth murmured. It felt ludicrously inadequate. “Death is- all of this- it isn’t fair.”

Tom didn’t respond- he didn’t need Seth to tell him that. It was something Seth needed to remind himself. He couldn’t let himself forget all those one-more-times that he’d managed to collect. Seeing his mother smile, one more time. Embracing his friends, one more time. Standing in the White House, one more time, one more time, one more time.

He couldn’t forget. He was one of the lucky ones.

He left after that. The President didn’t say anything, but Seth could read a room well enough to know that his presence was causing nothing but pain at that moment. And he was done with causing pain. He drifted his way back to Lyor’s office, hands stuffed in his pockets and his chest tight. But when he came to the door and peeked inside, the world seemed to stop pressing quite so hard around him.

Kendra must have left already, because Lyor was slouched alone at his desk, tie loosened, fiddling with a pen. He looked- for once- completely at ease, and Seth felt a violent rush of warm affection swell within him as he stood in the doorway, watching his friend.

Not just his friend. His second chance.

Lyor glanced up, smiling a little when he saw Seth. He dragged himself up, tossing his pen to the desk and shrugging his jacket on.

“Good to go?” he asked. Seth didn’t reply, just crossed the room in three strides. Lyor only had time to squawk out a faint noise of surprise before Seth swept him up in a suffocating hug. Lyor stiffened, arm’s dangling uselessly at his sides as Seth pulled him closer.

“What is happening?” Lyor said flatly.

Seth smiled into Lyor’s shoulder. He hadn’t planned on this, but as soon as he’d seen Lyor, he’d known he had to. He needed to remind himself that this was all real, all solid under his touch.

“I just- Thank you,” Seth mumbled into the crook of Lyor’s neck. He probably should have let go then, but he couldn’t unhook his fingers from the back of Lyor’s jacket. He was suddenly struck by a ridiculous, primal fear that if he let go, he would disappear. In that moment, it felt as though Lyor was the only thing keeping him grounded. Maybe he was. Maybe he always had been.

Lyor brushed a hesitant hand over Seth’s back- not an embrace, but getting there.

“Seth,” he said. “...Are you okay?”

Seth willed his arms to loosen, and he stepped back. There was puzzlement etched in Lyor’s face, but there was worry there as well, sharp and urgent. Seth couldn’t help but adore him for it.

“Yeah,” he replied easily. “Everything is great.”


	17. Two Pals

Kendra felt a bounce in her step as she sauntered her way to Lyor’s office. They’d managed to avoid any crises so far that week and all of the staff were behaving themselves, so Kendra was tentatively allowing herself to relax. Not even the sauna-hot weather could take the edge off her sparkling mood. Today was a good day. And, she thought as she knocked on the door and swung it open, she was going to make it even better.

“Hey boys,” she chirped. “Mind if I interrupt?”

Seth glanced up, giving her a friendly wave, but Lyor didn’t stir from where he was staring at his computer screen, chin propped up by his hand. Kendra waited a curious beat before she realised he was dozing.

Seth’s brow furrowed. “Oi,” he called, giving Lyor a gentle shake. Lyor’s eyes cracked open, and he frowned blankly up at them before his vision cleared.

“Oh, hey Kendra,” he mumbled, still blinking sleepily. Kendra couldn’t help but smile- caught off-guard like he was, squinting and scrunching up his nose, Lyor looked like a drowsy kitten. It was painfully endearing. Seeing him sleep was a relief as well. She’d never caught him resting in the White House before, even when he looked like he desperately needed it. Kendra had her suspicions why- she could only imagine what his dreams must be like- and she was glad that he was finally starting to feel more trusting around them all.

Seth didn’t seem to feel the same. He still had a pained look on his face, hand lingering on the back of Lyor’s chair. Finally, he dragged his gaze away from his friend, glancing quizzically at Kendra.

“How’s it going, Kendra?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“No complaints. I just came here to ask...” She turned smilingly to Lyor. “Hey, ah....What are your plans for dinner tonight?”

Lyor straightened, looking more clearheaded but still slightly befuddled. ““I’m......eating it?”

“Okay, good start,” she laughed, suddenly more nervous than she had expected to be. “I was...wondering if you’d like to eat it with me? I know a great Italian place,” she added meaningfully.

She’d given Seth’s words to her from a couple of weeks ago a lot of thought. Whole nights worth, if she was being honest. She liked Lyor- more than any of her other friends by a long shot- but she’d been consciously putting the brakes on the idea of taking their relationship further. That was until she gave the facts a long, unrelenting analysis and realised that there weren’t any valid reasons why. She’d thought, perhaps, that he wasn’t in the right headspace for anything like dating, but Seth’s return had clearly been working wonders. It seemed to Kendra like this was as good a time as any to give it a shot.

Now the only thing standing in their way was Lyor’s obliviousness.

Behind the desk, Seth had lit up, all apprehension gone. Lyor was smirking a little.

“Good thinking. That’s the perfect cuisine to torture Seth with. He loves pizza.”

“Oh- I actually just meant the two of us,” Kendra clarified awkwardly, shooting an apologetic look at Seth. “Sorry.”

Seth didn’t look hurt. He was shaking his head fervently, eyes gleaming as he gave her a double thumbs up from behind Lyor’s back. Lyor, though, was still blankly uncomprehending. He blinked, frowned, blinked again, brain still sleep-fuzzed and lagging.

“Uh, okay?” he said slowly. “Is there some work we need to go over?”

“Oh my god, Lyor,” Seth groaned, facepalming. “She’s asking you on a _date_.”

“Oh-“ Lyor’s eyes shot wide. He fell silent, mouth clamped in a thin line. Kendra held up her hands reassuringly. She knew body language as well as any law book, could read subtext with the best of them, so she knew full well that this wasn’t a one-sided interest. She also knew, however, that Lyor was stubborn as set concrete, and almost embarrassingly stunted when it came to navigating interpersonal relationships. If he didn’t want to jump straight into ‘date’ territory, then she could ease in slower.

“Call it what you like. No pressure. We can just be...two pals, enjoying some pasta together.”

...And she thought Lyor was the disaster here. _Two pals? Get a grip, Kennie!_

Lyor gave a painfully slow nod, the line of his mouth relaxing slightly. He jerked his head towards Seth, who was still looking like he was praying to high heaven for the strength to not throttle his friend.

“What are we supposed to do with him?” Lyor asked.

“Oh, uh....well.” Kendra swore internally. How had she forgotten about the Seth situation? Admittedly, over the last month he’d slotted himself so seamlessly back into their lives that she’d accidentally caught herself almost forgetting he was dead. But he was. And tied to Lyor like a ball to a chain.

“I can cook instead. I guess we could just eat here?” The White House wasn’t the most inhospitable of places, and it meant Seth could wander around at his own leisure. But the ghost was already shaking his head.

“No. No,” he said firmly. “That is the saddest thing I have ever heard. You’re going to go to a nice restaurant and have a proper dinner. I’ll just wait outside.”

Kendra shifted uncomfortably. “We can’t just leave you on the sidewalk, Seth. You’re not a dog.”

“I’ll take a walk. It’ll be refreshing. Please, just get him out of this place.”

Seth seemed completely earnest. And come to think of it, Kendra hadn’t seen Lyor leave the White House to go anywhere except his own home- apart from the time he’d visited Seth’s parents- in an awfully long while...

“I mean, if you’re okay with it...” she acquiesced reluctantly, and Seth mouthed a breathless ‘thank you.’

Kendra smiled. Seth really was good for their friend.

“So,” she said brightly, turning to Lyor. “Tonight? 8?”

Lyor still looked a little thrown, but he was nodding firmly, and Kendra counted that as a victory. “Okay,” he said. Then, in a self-directed murmur. “Two pals. Enjoying pasta.”

Kendra’s heart fluttered like a schoolgirl’s. _Calm the hell down_ , she scolded herself. “I’ll text you the address.” She beamed at them both.

“See you then.”

**—**

“So,” Seth drawled. “Dinner.” He wiggled his eyebrows infuriatingly. “With _Kendra_. How are we feeling?”

The ghost was sprawled out on the bed, watching Lyor shrug on a new jacket. He had decided to duck home for a shower and a change of clothes before meeting Kendra at Nonfinito’s at 8. Lyor might not put much stock in typical social graces, but he wouldn’t be able to stand going to a public place in clothes as sweat stained and crumpled as these were after a full day of work in this heat.

It was not, as Seth kept insisting, because he wanted to look good for Kendra on their ‘date.’

“Annoyed,” he snapped, “that you’ve misinterpreted so poorly. This isn’t a date. We’re platonically eating dinner together. It’s something friends do...I would assume.”

Even with his back to the bed, Lyor could practically hear Seth rolling his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right,” he huffed. “I remember this one time Aaron invited me to try out this cozy, romantic little restaurant he liked, so I got all dressed up and we ate alone together at a candlelit table while drinking wine- except I don’t, because that never happened, because this is a date!”

Seth had a disturbingly vivid image of how this night was going to go. How long had he spent fantasising about this? Lyor just hoped that he’d gotten the bit about the candles wrong- he despised candles cluttering dinner tables. Too many odours and not enough practicality.

He selected a new tie. Liberty blue run through with heliotrope purple stripes. If it just happened to be his favourite tie, then that was just a happy coincidence.

“Kendra’s just getting out of a relationship,” he said curtly, threading the tie around his neck.

“She’s also a grown ass woman who knows what she’s doing,” Seth exclaimed. There was the telltale creaking that told Lyor that Seth was sitting up. He could picture the other man perfectly: hands clasped and hanging between knees, mouth drawn into a pout of exasperation. He made no reply.

“Okay, how ‘bout this,” Seth sighed. “I’ll guess why you’re being so weird about this, and if I get it right, you tell me.”

Lyor finally swivelled around, fingers grappling with the sequence of knots for a Double Windsor. His prediction was 100% accurate, right down to the crease across Seth’s brows. “Bold of you to assume I’ll be listening at all.”

Seth promptly ignored him, unclasping his hands to rub them together eagerly. “Is this because you have a wife?”

Lyor snorted, not dignifying that with a proper answer. He and Julie had only stayed married because it was comfortable and familiar, something a little reassuring to hold onto. But they didn’t hold any expectations for each other. Even when they had been in an actual, committed relationship, they’d never been strictly monogamous. Lyor had never ventured out, mostly because nobody ever took his fancy, but Julie had juggled plenty of other boyfriends. Lyor had quite liked a few of them.

Seth seemed to take Lyor’s derisive snort as a ‘no,’ so he moved on. “Is it because you’re worried Kendra won’t like you if she gets to know you?”

Lyor tugged viciously at his tie, his fingers feeling clumsier than usual. Nobody in the world had an opinion that actually mattered to Lyor but Kendra- and maybe Seth. But there didn’t seem to be much of a risk of her changing her tune about him at this point, not after seeing him at his ugliest and still coming back time and time again. Lyor knew he could quickly grow intolerable after extended exposure, but he also knew that Kendra was as stubborn as they came. So, no, he was confident in her judgement of him.

Seth was not about to quit any time soon, it seemed, and Lyor sucked back a groan as he opened his mouth again.

“Do you not feel ready for a relationship?”

That- wasn’t how Lyor would phrase it. He wasn’t scared of relationships. He wasn’t _scared_ , period. This wasn’t some irrational paranoia. It was just that....Lyor knew how easily things could crumble under his feet now. He’d been aware of it before Taurasi- he’d experienced his own fair share of earth-shattering experiences in his life- but he’d let the years lull him into a false sense of security. The tsunami had let Lyor remember the reality of it, the visceral pain, and it wasn’t a feeling he was about to forget again any time soon. He’d always taken it for granted that Seth would be by his side, bothersome and quarrelsome and _present_. And then he’d died, and Lyor hadn’t been able to do anything about it.

He didn’t want to go through a relationship with Kendra just waiting for the tidal wave to come and sweep it all away. He just didn’t have the energy.

In the back of his mind, an irksome little voice pointed to a memory- a time when Kendra had made an excuse for breaking up with Trey, and Lyor had told her that bad things happening shouldn’t be used as an excuse for holding yourself back. That same little voice asked why the same advice didn’t apply to him?

 _Because I said so_ , Lyor stabbed back poisonously.

His fingers, heavy and feeling like they were full of sand, weren’t cooperating with him. Lyor tried a fourth, fifth, sixth time to knot his tie correctly, the fabric slipping treacherously from his fingers every time, until he finally ripped it from around his neck with a ravaged sigh.

“Hey, you alright?”

Seth’s voice had lost all his levity. His eyes softened as he stood to face Lyor, and he gently extricated the tie from Lyor’s barely trembling fingers. He deftly draped it back around Lyor’s neck, steady hands making quick work of the desired knot. As he worked, he gazed searchingly. _Did I go too far?_  he seemed to be asking.

Lyor gave a slight, reassuring twitch of the head. “Just tired.”

Seth grimaced. “You’re always tired,” he muttered. “I thought you’d been sleeping better?”

Lyor shrugged his shoulders helplessly. He really had been- he’d gone almost a whole week with only one nightmare. But every day, dragging himself out of bed seemed to become a bigger effort.

Seth finished the Double Windsor, clumsily smoothing it down as he chewed his lip. “You wanna reschedule?” he asked. “Kendra will understand.”

The response was immediate, bursting unthinkingly from Lyor’s mouth. “No. _No_.”

He instantly wished he’d injected a hint more reluctance into his answer, with the way that Seth’s face instantly brightened with a mischievous grin.

“Of course you don’t,” he teased, tone ringing with an unbearable sing-song lilt. “Because you’re excited for your da-aate.”

Lyor scowled. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m also right.”

Lyor scoffed, and Seth turned his chin up in challenge. “So, if this isn’t a date, then you won’t mind going to meet Kendra looking like...”

Seth, with a flick of his fingers, dislodged Lyor’s collar, bending it into an unbearably crooked angle.

“...This?”

Lyor clenched his jaw, tightened his fists, breathed through his nose. _It was just a tiny displacement, it was just a tiny displacement, it was just a tiny displacement-_

With a mutinous tug, Lyor straightened his collar. Seth smirked in triumph.

“Just because I have self respect doesn’t make this anything more than it is,” Lyor snapped peevishly. He turned back to the mirror. His tie looked perfect. He gave his jacket one last tug, sighing.

“Why are you so invested in this being a date anyway? he asked.

He couldn’t see Seth in the reflection, but he could feel the cool heaviness of a ghostly hand brushing over his shoulder.

“Because you’re my friend,” Seth said, voice soft and suddenly achingly sincere. “And you deserve to be happy.”

Lyor smiled, tight and uncomfortable. Seth’s hand dropped away.

“And because I want to see if it’s actually possible for you to admit that you’re wrong,” he added cheekily. Lyor rolled his eyes, huffing out a laugh, grateful for the puncturing of the tension. He checked his phone for the time- 7:39. If they were going to be walking, then they better get going.

**—**

Seth strolled by Lyor’s side as they made their way down the street towards Nonfinito’s Italian Restaurant. It was a quaint little place, warm light spilling out onto the sidewalk, carrying the mouthwatering smell of garlic and parmesan with it.

There were candles on the tables. Seth hid a grin.

Waiting outside the entrance, chatting quietly amongst themselves, were Kendra and Aaron- the latter ready with a Bluetooth headset to ‘talk’ to Seth with. While the two lovebirds were busy making eyes over bolognese, he had organised to have a drinks night with Aaron. A bit different than their old outings, what with the fact that Seth was unable to drink and imperceivable to the general population, but it would still be good fun. Definitely more enjoyable than kicking around the streets of D.C by himself, at any rate.

The two of them turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps, their faces catching the yellow light of the restaurant. Aaron gave a little wave, but neither man was paying the slightest attention to the National Security Advisor.

Lyor- aside from his garishly godawful choice of tie- was looking exceedingly handsome, but he was nothing compared to Kendra. The lawyer was indisputably pretty on a regular day, but tonight...she was _breathtaking_. The gentle light played on the cascading chestnut locks framing her smiling face, and she was wearing a teasingly low-cut black dress that hugged her figure in all the right places.

Oh, she had _definitely_ put effort into this. Seth subtly turned his head, trying to catch a glimpse of Lyor’s reaction. The man seemed to have his breath caught in his throat, eyes locked on Kendra as a tender smile unconsciously softened his features. He looked starstruck, and completely unaware of it.

It would be infuriating, if it wasn’t so goddamn adorable.

“Alright, just remember- be charming,” Seth hissed in Lyor’s ear when they were still a few paces away. “But not too charming, okay? ‘Cause your room is not soundproof.”

Lyor wrinkled his nose. “I’m walking away now,” he announced. “Enjoy your date with Aaron,” he added mockingly, a smirk playing on his face. Seth preferred the smile from before far more.

“Oh, I will.” He clapped Lyor heartily on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Lyor broke away from his side, but not before turning back to shoot him one last scowl. Seth couldn’t be sure- it could just be the glow from the restaurant light, or his own overactive imagination- but he could swear that there was a blush heating Lyor’s cheeks.

Seth couldn’t restrain his grin as he watched Lyor approach Kendra. He felt ridiculously, inexplicably proud. Lyor murmured a few words to Kendra- something that Seth hoped to god was a compliment- that made Kendra smile, and they headed inside.

Aaron made his way over to his side, looking back over his shoulder at the front window of the restaurant. He shook his head bemusedly as he bumped shoulders with Seth in greeting.

“Here I was thinking Kendra was the sane one out of all of us,” he commented.

Even though he knew it was a joke, Seth still felt a hot surge of protectiveness rise up within him.

“Hey, come on,” he scolded. “Lyor’s great.”

Aaron chuckled. “Careful, or I’ll start thinking _you_ want to be on that date with him.”

“Ha ha.” He couldn’t begrudge Aaron his little jab, though. He liked the smile it brought to his face too much. Aaron had always been solemn, but these days a smile on him was like seeing lightning strike twice.

He turned away from Nonfinito’s, in the direction of their favourite bar. It was only a street away- plenty close enough that Seth wouldn’t have to worry about being yanked back to Lyor’s side. Which was a relief. This was the last thing Seth wanted to be interrupting.

“Come on. I’m finally going to drink you under the table,” he said as they set off. Seth was a seasoned veteran of Harvard dorm parties, and he could hold his liquor like a champ, but even he couldn’t hold a candle to Aaron ‘Texas-born-‘n-raised’ Shore. There was only one surefire way he was going to be able to beat his friend tonight...

Aaron narrowed his eyes confusedly. “...You can’t drink.”

Seth grinned. “Exactly.”

**—**

Lyor scanned the room as he and Kendra were guided to their reserved table, measuring out and weighing up his discomfort levels. There were candles on the tables, as feared: not good. But, to balance it out, he could hear the chefs from the kitchen speaking in actual Italian: good. Also, there were no screaming children in sight: excellent. In fact, all the tables around them seemed to be seating other couples.

 _Couples_ , he corrected himself firmly. Not ‘other couples.’ Just couples. He was suddenly doubly glad Seth wasn’t here to see this.

“You look nice,” Kendra commented as they sat down, and Lyor’s brain froze. _Return the compliment_ , a voice that was definitely Seth’s screamed in his head, but Kendra moved on before he could fumble something out. “Loving the tie. Very bold choice.”

Lyor brushed his fingers against the Double Windsor knot, sitting like a sapphire at the base of his throat. “I think it brings out my eyes,” he replied dryly, and Kendra laughed. The sound of I thought drew his gaze back to her smiling lips. “Your lipstick is new, isn’t it? I’ve never seen you wear that shade before. It...it looks good on you.”

Seth’s incessant voice in his head grumbled. Lyor instantly regretted how tacked on the compliment at the end sounded- the lipstick genuinely did look exceptional on her, as well as everything else. But Kendra had brightened from the moment he’d mentioned the shade, obviously gratified that he paid that close attention to the lipstick she wore on a regular basis, so he figured he was off the hook.

The waitress returned with some menus, and Lyor gave it a critical once-over. He generously considered himself an expert in most things, but he had to acknowledge that he was a particular connoisseur of Italian cuisine. The perks of having a snobbish Italian father, he supposed. He couldn’t usually credit his father as the source of anything approaching happy childhood memories, but Lyor would give him this- he had certainly known how to cook. It had given Lyor a particularly picky palate for Italian food, with most places scarcely measuring up. But Kendra had said this place was excellent, so that had to count for something.

“So, you’ve come here before?” Lyor asked as he considered the veal marsala.

Kendra nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah. I’d eat here every night if I could. They actually do a vegetarian carbonara, which is apparently considered blasphemy at every other Italian restaurant I’ve been to.”

Lyor’s lips thinned. Well, there went his hopes of exceptional dining. Oh well- at least his company was above par.

“You’re lucky you aren’t a vegan, or a love of Italian food would have a very unhappy ending for you,” he commented.

Kendra slipped her water. “Oh, I would have found a way,” she said airily. “Not hell nor high water can keep me away from a slice of pizza.” She tilted her head quizzically. “I’d have thought you’d have a harder time. Aren’t you gluten free?”

Lyor let out a little chuckle. He would have wondered how Kendra had even heard that particular factoid, considering only one person in the White House was privy to it, but he had learnt well enough by now to not question how Kendra Daynes knew the things she knew. It was one of the ever-enduring mysteries of life.

“Ah, that was a lie I told Maya Dunning from OMB when she offered to overlook my smashing of a very valuable antique vase in exchange for having dinner with her,” he admitted, smiling crookedly. “I had hoped it would make me less appealing. People seem to have an unrivalled hatred for those with celiac disease.”

Kendra guffawed, caging her smile behind her hand. “Seems like an airtight plan. Did it work?”

“No,” Lyor said bitterly, repressing a shudder as the memories of that awful night rose up to assault him. “She managed to find a completely-gluten free restaurant that also happened to house a live jazz band.”

“Oh god. Sounds like a long night.”

“Eternal. Though, on the plus side, I’ve now formulated the perfect plan for a murder-suicide, so it wasn’t all bad.”

Kendra laughed again, bright and twinkling. Lyor found himself relaxing into his seat. If this ‘date’- or whatever it was- set the benchmark for how their relationship was going to progress, then Lyor was finding himself cautiously, unbelievingly optimistic. There had been no gas leaks, no freak earthquakes, no food poisoning- though, as he eyed the menu suspiciously, he wasn’t ruling that one out that completely yet.

He was still sickeningly exhausted, but he could fight through that the same way he’d been fighting through it to get his work done for the last few weeks or so. There was a headache raging behind his eyes that had been brewing there since midday, but with the sound of Kendra’s laughter filling his ears, Lyor was convinced he could forget about it.

There was only one other thing that was bringing the night down, he thought sourly as he glared down at the flickering candle sitting obnoxiously in its little glass case, filling up the space between them, its flame waving mockingly in Lyor’s direction.

Kendra followed his stormy gaze, and her eyes rolled as she caught sight of the object of his vexation.

“I hate candles on dinner tables,” she grumbled, blowing out the flame with an irritated puff of air. “I mean, how many lights does one restaurant need, right?”

Lyor felt a grin stretching across his face. “I couldn’t agree more, Kendra,” he said, and Kendra matched his grin inch for inch. “I couldn’t agree more.”  


**—**

They spilled out onto the sidewalk, Lyor holding the door open for Kendra as she skipped out into the warm evening air. That dinner, as far as possible-first-dates went, had exceeded all her expectations. More than the good food, which settled satisfyingly in her stomach even now, or easy conversation, Lyor had actually seemed to genuinely enjoy himself. That was all she could have ever hoped for.

Even now, as they lulled outside the restaurant, he was smiling. One of his genuine ones- tiny and heartfelt- that Kendra loved so much. They were a rare sight, even rarer since Taurasi, and Kendra liked to collect each one she saw, holding the memory of them tight in her chest.

They started wandering aimlessly, leisurely making their way down to the far end of the brightly lit street. They’d eventually head over to the bar to pick Seth up, but for the moment they weren’t in any hurry. Seth was probably having the time of his life seeing how many drinks he could goad Aaron into having before the other man remembered where he had to show up to work the next day. Besides, Kendra was perfectly content with only Lyor’s company for now.

He was quiet, much quieter than in the restaurant, only absently mumbling out answers to the conversation starters Kendra dangled in the air. She tried to brush away the knot of disappointment forming in her chest. Lyor was perpetually inconstant, she knew that well enough by now. And definitely not the most socially well exercised. A whole night of uninterrupted conversation about non-political related topics had probably taken a lot out of him. More talking might be asking too much.

Instead, she linked their arms together daringly. Lyor didn’t pull away, and Kendra considered that a win. In fact, he leaned heavily against her side- and Kendra was eternally grateful for the glare of streetlights that would disguise the ridiculous blush she was currently sporting.

She looked up at Lyor thoughtfully. He looked a lifetime away from that fragile, broken creature that had come back from Taurasi all those months ago. She remembered picking him up from the airport- she had, because who else was going to do it?- and seeing him stumble out of the terminal, pale and drawn and silent. She had never heard Lyor go for more than two minutes without speaking before, so the silence on the drive to his place had been as unsettling as it was deafening. After a few minutes she’d had to break it with her own voice, unable to bear it any longer. She’d asked him, with as much encouragement she could muster through the fog of her own grief, if maybe he wanted to come back to her place, or she could drop him off at Julie’s? He had finally spoken then, words barely audible, and said that he just wanted to go home.

When she had pulled up in front of his apartment, he had stayed frozen in his seat, as though he had forgotten what came next. Kendra’s hesitant calling of his name was what finally snapped him out of it, and he leapt from the car without so much as a thank you, fleeing up the stairs to his door. That day, Kendra could barely recognise him. But now he was more himself than she suspected he”d been in a long time, and it showed. In fact, with the moonlight glinting off the rims of his glasses, and his gelled hair slightly askew and bouncing back into its natural curl, and that perfect little smile still on his lips, Lyor looked enticingly kissable.

It was soon- far too soon- for that, but Kendra allowed herself the little fantasy. She tried to decide how it would go. Lyor was always confident, unyielding- would his kisses be the same? Would he be all demanding lips and tongue, fingers tangled in her hair as he pulled her into him? Or- Kendra had seen a different side to him recently, a Lyor that was unsure. Maybe she would have to lead him into it, guiding his lips to hers as she cupped his jaw, stroking his cheek soothingly to stop him from drawing away like some startled animal.

All thoughts of kissing fled from her mind in an instant, though, as Lyor stumbled, pulling away from her as he swayed on his feet.

“Woah. Steady, you lightweight,” Kendra teased, shaking her head fondly. Lyor had only had two glasses of wine, but with his skin-and-bones constitution, she wouldn’t be surprised if that was all it took to take him down for the count. It would certainly explain his sudden quietness.

But her laughter died in her throat as Lyor’s knees wobbled dangerously, threatening to buckle underneath his weight. His arm flailed helplessly, reaching out desperately for the solidity of the streetlight beside him. Kendra wrapped an arm around his waist, heart thudding out a screaming alarm toll in her chest.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on?” she said, using her other hand to tilt Lyor’s chin to face her. His eyes were foggy and bright with fear as he blinked furiously at her.

Kendra’s stomach dropped. This brought her back, with nightmarish intensity, to the night that Lyor had collapsed in the Oval Office. It had been from hunger that time, and Kendra had just seen him wolf down a heaping plate of gnocchi, but what if it was something else? Surely, if Lyor had been endangering his health again, Seth would have let them know- but what if he’d even managed to hide it from the ghost? This might not even be Lyor’s fault, but with his history of self-destruction, Kendra had to ask.

“Did you do something stupid again?” Her voice quaked as she said it, but as he shook his head, her shuddering fear only deepened. That meant that there was something else wrong- something that they didn’t know about.

“No. I don’t- I don’t-“ Lyor choked, and then let out a strangled whimper. His lips were shaking as he looked to Kendra.

“Something’s wrong,” he mumbled out, before he tipped forward. This time, there was no Aaron to catch him as he fell, and even with Kendra’s arm around his waist, she wasn’t strong enough to stop his descent. Instead, she tumbled down with him, doing her best to protect his head from cracking against the pavement and ignoring the pain shooting through her definitely-bruised knees.

“Lyor? Lyor?” Kendra called frantically, but he was unresponsive, head lolling uselessly as she pulled him onto her lap. With one hand already dialling 911 on her phone, the other grasped desperately at his own limp fingers. The feel of his hand made her heart stop for a second. He was still breathing faintly- she had made doubly sure- but the skin underneath hers felt as cold and clammy as a corpse.

**—**

Aaron grinned at Seth over the rim of his beer. This was his third- and last, as he’d firmly told the cajoling ghost. Seth’s inner troublemaker had really seemed to be unleashed in the event of his second life, and it fell to Aaron to step back into his age-old role of ‘stern big brother’ that he’d perfected growing up in a family of six to stop things getting out of hand. Which was bullshit, considering that Seth was actually older than him.

 _Though not for long_ , a somber little voice reminded him. Aaron would be turning 40 in a few months, and then 41 the next year, then 42 the next, and then on and on and on until there were no more years left to count. Seth would be 40 forever.

It was hard to forget the age. Seth had died two weeks before his birthday, after all.

Aaron shook that thought away. They were having a good time- no sense in ruining the night by letting his morbid mind run away from him. He tried to keep up with what his friend was saying- something about Lyor’s houseplants?- when suddenly Seth stopped dead, a shadow of unease darkening his face.

“Go on,” Aaron said with only a hint of a slur to his words. “You said he threatens them if they don’t grow well enough? I need to hear more about this.”

But Seth had gone silent. He opened up his mouth as if to speak, but snapped it shut again as the image of him flickered for a split second, like a grainy TV screen. Aaron straightened abruptly, nearly spilling beer across the table.

“Seth,” he said sharply. “What’s happening?”

There was an awful horror spreading across Seth’s face, like nothing Aaron had ever seen before. He felt a sudden, foreboding urge to call Kendra.

“Seth!” he said again, and the man gaped over at him.

“Lyor-“ was all Seth could get out before he flickered once, twice, and then blinked out of sight completely, leaving behind only a lingering chill in the empty air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’ve finished all the chapters, and there’s no sense drawing this out, I think I’ll be posting a chapter daily from now on.


	18. Consequences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blatant abuse of artistic liberties when it comes to medicine lmao

Kendra rolled the kinks out of her shoulders, shifting restlessly and wincing at the squeak of the plastic chair against the tiles of the hospital floor. She’d managed to get- she checked the clock blearily- an hour and a half of sleep, and with the way her back was protesting, she suspected she was going to need a hospital stay herself. Still, there was no way she was going to find somewhere more agreeable to sleep- not when Lyor was still lying unconscious in his hospital bed.

Kendra gazed down at Lyor’s prone form. The harsh fluorescent lights weren’t doing his complexion any favours; he was still sallow and drained, and not looking nearly alive enough for her liking. The only colour in his face was the purpling bruise on his temple from where Kendra hadn’t been able to stop his head striking the pavement.

She hadn’t been able to do anything then, she thought frustratedly, and she wasn’t able to do anything now- except wait. She despised the silence blanketing the hospital room like a funeral shroud. She was itching for someone to talk to, just to let her worries out into open air. But there was nobody else. Aaron had returned to the White House after riding with them to the hospital, and Seth...

She’d only noticed once they were in the ambulance that Seth wasn’t there with them. Aaron had explained, in hushed tones, that the ghost had disappeared right before he’d come to find them. And now, hours later and blocks away, Seth was still nowhere to be seen. The room was warm, and Kendra felt cold.

Her eyes fell back on Lyor’s bruise. With a touch lighter than air, she traced the shape of it, brushing away a few flyaway brown curls in the process. Lyor’s skin was slightly warmer, but not enough to be reassuring. Her fingers felt almost out of her control as they slipped down to trace the gaunt line of his cheekbone, and then further still to stroke his cheek, his jaw, brushing his pink, frowning lips. Even in his current state, his features seemed so delicately sculpted.

Kendra had always thought Lyor was handsome. But before now, she’d never quite appreciated just how _pretty_ he was.

As Kendra tenderly cupped his cheek, there was a whisper of movement under her hand as Lyor shifted slightly. Dark eyelashes fluttered against bloodless cheeks, and Kendra watched with bated, exultant breath as Lyor cracked his eyes open, finally awake.

“Lyor,” she breathed, giving him a watery smile. “Hey.”

There was a flash of recognition in his misty blue eyes, and Lyor pressed his cheek into her palm. They stayed like that for a long moment, before the room was plunged into an icy chill. Lyor’s head shot up, neck craning as he squinted, desperate to see. Kendra shushed him as she snatched his glasses from the side table, carefully sliding them on, and as his face slackened with relief, Kendra turned as well.

“Seth!” she exclaimed, the weight on her shoulders feeling even lighter.

The ghost flickered uncertainly before solidifying into his familiar form at the foot of the bed. He was clutching at his stomach, expression taut with terror, but as he blinked, he seemed to finally register where he was. His eyes fixed on the bed in front of him.

“Lyor!” Seth hollered.

Kendra didn’t even have time to move. He misted straight through her as he barrelled to Lyor’s bedside. Lyor in that moment seemed to forget Kendra existed; eyes only for Seth. The ghost had a hand fisted in Lyor’s hospital gown, palm pressing over his heart, but with the intensity in Seth’s expression, Kendra suspected he was seeing- or feeling- something much deeper.

“I felt you go,” Seth rasped. His voice was small. “The connection just dropped. I thought-“

Lyor’s eyes dropped closed, grimacing in sympathy. He knew exactly how Seth must have been feeling, Kendra realised with a sharp pain.

“I’m okay, Seth,” he murmured, skimming his own hand over the curve of Seth’s shoulder, as if to reassure himself that the ghost was really there.

Seth faltered, tightening his grip as he studied the bruised face in front of him. “You’re okay,” he murmured. He dropped his head, pressing his forehead to Lyor’s bony shoulder, mumbling the words over and over like a prayer. “You’re okay, you’re okay...” Lyor’s hand slithered up from Seth’s shoulder to the back of his neck. He didn’t stroke Seth’s hair, just held him with a firm grip, kneading lightly into his skull with gentle fingers.

Lyor must have been too worn out, and Seth too frayed with worry, to be embarrassed about other people seeing them like this. Kendra was a little surprised by the intimacy of the scene in front of her, but she supposed she shouldn’t be. The connection between Lyor and Seth ran so much deeper than just a practical need for proximity. There was a closeness between that hadn’t been there before Seth’s death. They’d become so entangled in each other’s lives that it was hard to separate them into two entities anymore. They weren’t just Lyor and Seth; they were Lyor-and-Seth.

Kendra wondered if she should be jealous.

As soon as she thought it, she scolded herself for it. There were parts of their relationship that she was never going to understand, never going to be a part of. But that was never going to change what she had with Lyor. She and Seth meant very different things to him, that much was clear.

Seth finally extricated himself from Lyor’s grip, blinking up at Kendra as if finally realising she was there. “What happened?”

Finally, a way she could be helpful. “You collapsed after we left the restaurant,” Kendra told Lyor. “You were out cold, so I called an ambulance.”

Lyor frowned in attempted recollection as he pulled himself up to lean against his pillows. “What are the doctors saying?”

“Nothing, _yet_ ,” she sighed. God knows she’d asked about a hundred times already. “They’re still running tests. How do you feel?”

Lyor grimaced. “Like I’ve died, been brought back to life, and died again.” He probed his bruised temple, hissing in pain.

“Well, you’re awake. That’s all that matters,” Kendra said pragmatically. She turned to Seth, reaching out to squeeze his hand. It was colder than she remembered it being. “I’m glad you’re okay too, Seth. Aaron said you just disappeared.”

Lyor’s eyes narrowed in alarm. “Disappeared?” he said sharply. “What do you mean?”

Seth floundered, frowning reluctantly. He obviously didn’t want to worry Lyor, and Kendra instantly regretted bringing it up. But it was too late now, so Seth answered.

“I....went back.”

Lyor scrunched his brows. “To where? To purgatory?”

That wasn’t a term Kendra had expected the agnostic Lyor to throw around, but it seemed to mean something to the both of them. Except Seth was shaking his head, fiddling with his sleeves. He wasn’t making eye contact.

“The memories,” he said instead, voice barely audible. His hands had drifted back to his stomach.

Kendra was still feeling hopelessly in the dark, but a dark flicker of understanding shadowed Lyor’s face. He actually looked disturbed, and Kendra’s gut tightened uneasily. _What did that mean?_

“Well,” he said, mouth pulled into a tight frown. “Don’t do it again.”

“It wasn’t on purpose, believe me,” Seth murmured wearily. Lyor still looked unsettled, and Seth stretched his lips into an artificial grin, thumping Lyor lightly on the shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said brightly. “We’re worried about you, remember?”

“I’m sick of people worrying about me,” Lyor grumbled. “It should be someone else’s turn.”

Kendra felt herself smile. If Lyor was bitching already, then he couldn’t be that badly out of shape.

Right then, they were interrupted by a portly, 50-something looking doctor scuttling into the room. He had a stern face that didn’t move an inch as he surveyed Lyor sitting up in bed.

“Ah, good, Mr Boone, you’re awake. We have your test results back,” he rumbled. He twitched an eyebrow in Kendra’s direction. “If you’d like some privacy-”

“She can stay,” Lyor cut in. Unseen, Seth slunk to the other side of the bed, out of the way.

Doctor- Hansen, Kendra remembered, scowled down at his chart. “You’ve given us quite the puzzle, Mr Boone,” he said, and Kendra exchanged a wordless look of alarm with Seth. That was never what you wanted to hear from your doctor.

“You presented with what appeared to be cardiogenic shock, but without any of the typical cardiopulmonary findings,” Dr Hansen continued. “I would attribute it to stress-“

Kendra chewed her lip. “I mean, he works for the President, but- if anything, you’ve been less stressed lately,” she said, directing the last bit at Lyor. He just shrugged.

Dr Hansen didn’t seem pleased about being interrupted, and there was a grumble in his throat as he kept talking. “That’s the thing- it’s not just that. It seems like all your organs are under undue strain. The only instances I’ve seen that are even remotely close to this are cases of extreme physical overexertion.” He squinted skeptically at Lyor’s skinny frame. “Do you do a lot of high-intensity exercise?”

Lyor arched an eyebrow derisively. “I have an office job.”

“What about in your life outside of work?”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Well....” Dr Hansen sighed through his nostrils. “We’ll keep running tests, but this is the only thing that makes sense.” He peered down the bridge of his nose, mouth a harsh gash across his marble face. “Whatever you’re doing that’s causing this much stress on your body, I suggest you stop it immediately. Continued strain of this magnitude could easily lead to heart failure- even multiple organ dysfunction.” The words dropped from the doctor’s mouth like they were nothing, even as Kendra stifled a gasp.

He flicked appraisingly through his chart. “Do you have a family history of cardiac disease, Mr Boone?”

Lyor’s fingers had tightened around the cotton hospital sheet. “My father died of a heart attack.”

Dr Hansen hummed disapprovingly. “That makes you a particularly high-risk case. If you don’t reduce the strain on your body, fatal cardiac arrest is likely.”

There was an awful silence in the room after that proclamation. Dr Hansen glanced between Kendra and Lyor, as if only then reading their stricken expressions. “If nothing else shows up in our diagnostics, then you should be out of here in a few days,” he said with a plastic smile. It fell flat.

Before, in the first few hours since Lyor collapsed, Kendra had felt an acute panic and nothing else. Now, though, she was drowning in a deep, heavy dread. At least if there had been an actual diagnosis- even if it was a brain tumour or something just as horrible- then there would be a goal, a clear enemy to fight. But not even the doctors seemed to have any idea what was wrong with Lyor. She swallowed down the lump in her throat.

Dr Hansen seemed eager to leave. “Ah, there’s a woman waiting outside. Should I tell her she can come in?” he asked.

“Uh-“ Lyor frowned, straining to see out the door, but Kendra just nodded.

“Yes, thanks,” she said, and as the doctor left, he waved in a young, unsmiling brunette.

Lyor’s brows rocketed to his hairline. “Julie?”

Kendra shot Julie a tight smile and picked up her purse from the floor as she stood. Lyor was still fixated on his wife.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” she said shortly. She thought about squeezing Lyor’s hand, about brushing his cheek, about leaning down and kissing him senseless, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of Julie’s eyes on her. She left the room.

**—**

Lyor blinked bemusedly at where Julie stood. He hadn’t known who could have been outside- the only two people who cared about him enough for hospital visits were already in the room- but he definitely hadn’t expected to see his wife. He hadn’t even heard from her since their tax debacle; which seemed like a lifetime ago.

Kendra must have called her. Speaking of whom....

He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret as Kendra slipped out of the room, his eyes lingering on her as she retreated. She had looked uncomfortable as soon as Julie had entered, and Lyor could guess why. He wished that he’d taken the time last night to explain exactly what his relationship between him and Julie was so that Kendra wouldn’t have felt the need to leave, but it was too late now. Kendra was gone, leaving Lyor with a curious Seth and a very unhappy looking Julie.

“So,” she declared, crossing the room with deliberate slowness. “When you get caught up in a tsunami and lose a friend, you don’t call me. I have to hear about it on the news. I think, ‘okay, he just needs space,’ so I leave you alone. But now I hear that you’re in hospital after _collapsing_.” She halted at the foot of his bed, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, just like Lyor always did. “So I’m thinking that might have been a bad call.”

Lyor cracked a crooked smile. “Nice to see you too, Julie.”

Julie’s mask of calm shattered, eyes wide and horrified. “No, Lyor!” she snapped. “This is not ‘nice!’ You could have died- twice!” She flicked her hair angrily out of her face. Beside the bed, Seth’s gaze flicked rapidly between them, looking to see if he was going to have to call Kendra back- or step in himself. Lyor knew better, though. Julie always started with sizzle, ended with softness. This wasn’t anger- this was a warm-up.

Right on cue, she sighed, all heat fading to pure concern. “Can we just promise each other something?” she asked earnestly. “That the next time one of us _nearly dies_ , we maybe give each other a call?”

“Done,” Lyor said. He licked his lips. “I’m sorry.”

Julie just sighed, dropping down in the seat Kendra had left vacant. “We need to talk more,” she said simply. “You look like shit.”

Lyor chuckled weakly. People always thought Julie was the decent one out of the two of them, but the truth was that she could be even more acerbic than him when she wanted. It was why he married her.

“What’s been going on in your life?” she asked, still scanning his frame- bruised and pale and far too skinny, he knew. He must have looked a treat. “Other than collapsing, I mean?”

Another chuckle caught in his throat. Where to begin? “Ah, quite a lot, actually.”

Seth shifted curiously beside him. Lyor gave him a questioning glance, and after a dubious second, he nodded. Lyor turned resolutely back to Julie.

“You know that friend you mentioned? The one that died in Taurasi?”

Julie nodded. “The Press Secretary. Seth....Wright, was it?”

“Yeah. Well, he’s not as dead as we thought.” Julie’s eyes went wide as she calculated all the things that could possibly mean. Lyor would bet his kidneys she wouldn’t stumble on the truth. But he didn’t think there was any sense in beating around the bush, so he just came out with it. “He’s a ghost.”

Julie blinked.

“He came back about three months ago, and he’s been with me ever since.” He nodded in Seth’s direction. “He’s here right now, actually.”

Julie laced and unlaced her fingers. She sucked in a breath. And, finally, she nodded.

“Okay,” she said.

“ _Okay_?” Lyor and Seth echoed simultaneously. Lyor couldn’t hide his incredulity. Julie just shrugged.

“There’s no way you’d lie about something like this,” she explained. “And even you wouldn’t be able to hide this level of crazy from your coworkers for long, but...” she glanced out to where Kendra was waiting. “Nobody said anything about you having delusions. So, you have to be telling the truth.”

Julie Keenan: a creature of logic. Yet another reason Lyor had married her.

Seth glanced at Lyor bemusedly, and shrugged as he materialised. “Wow. You’re wife is _chill_ , man.”

Saying she believed in ghosts and actually seeing one was obviously not a leap Julie had expected to make so soon, because she nearly jumped out of her seat when Seth appeared. But she recovered admirably, only gaping for a second.

“Oh, wow. Alright then” She primly stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Julie. The wife,” she added with a little smirk.

Seth gave her a friendly smile in return, taking the proffered hand. “Seth. The ghost.”

“Ooh! Cold hands,” Julie exclaimed, but didn’t pull away.

“Well, there’s no blood in these veins,” Seth said apologetically. “It happens.”

The conversation so far had been amicable enough, but Lyor could still make out the edge in the smiles of his wife and friend; each weighing each other up, trying to decide whether the other was a threat to Lyor- who himself didn’t particularly appreciate being treated like a child.

Julie’s gaze fell to where Seth’s hand had fallen to rest beside Lyor’s on the bed. She contemplated it for a long moment before finally relenting, and her first genuine smile spread across her face, bright and sparkling.

“So,” she laughed. “The most aggressively skeptical man I know ends up as a medium.” She shook her head fondly. “Only you, Lyor.”

They talked for a while, Julie grilling him on everything that she’d missed in his life, and Seth- thankfully- doing most of the answering for him. He still felt dangerously close to passing out. Julie could tell, because after ten minutes she made to stand up, smiling sympathetically at him.

“You get some rest,” she said. “I’m gonna go have a chat with Kendra.”

“Be gentle, please,” he mumbled. “She’s been through enough without you terrorising her.”

Julie grinned toothily. “I’ll be charming as ever,” she said, and Lyor snorted.

His wife turned on her heel to face Seth, wagging a stern finger in his face. “Now you- look after this one, you hear?”

“I will.”

Julie nodded in satisfaction. Turning once again to Lyor, she pursed her lips determinedly. “I want to see more of you,” she declared. “Or next I’ll be finding out that you’ve been put into witness protection in Europe or something.”

Lyor chuckled. “I appreciate that you think I’m capable of getting into that much trouble.”

“Well, I know you, don’t I? C’mon, I want you to promise. Promise that we will spend more time together.”

“I promise that we will spend more time together,” Lyor repeated back, and Julie nodded in satisfaction.

“I’ll hold you to that, don’t you worry.” She leaned in, tenderly running her thumb over his brow. “Silly man,” she murmured, and pressed a gentle kiss over his bruise. As she pulled back, she winced.

“God, you’re almost as cold as Seth,” she hissed.

It was an innocuous, throwaway comment, but there was something about it that threw off sparks in Lyor’s mind. Julie waved goodbye as she left, but Lyor barely registered it, too wrapped up in the dread pooling in his gut. He glanced at Seth, and realised they were wearing twin expressions of horror. The ghost had come to the same conclusion he had.

Lyor knew why he had collapsed.

 _Fuck_.

**—**

There was a waiting bench outside, opposite a mural of a field dotted with daisies. Kendra sat, counted petals, and tried not to think about what was happening in the other room.

She had been the one to call Julie- a few hours after Lyor had been admitted and when she was finally feeling calm enough to sit down for a second- but it hadn’t been her idea. It was Aaron who’d texted her, asking if she’d contacted his wife yet. It had been a sensible suggestion, but one that had made Kendra chew the inside of her cheek despondently before finally bucking up and dialling the number.

It was a generally understood fact that Lyor and Julie did not have a conventional marriage. It hadn’t even been one of Kendra’s considerations when weighing up the pros and cons of asking Lyor out. But the theoretical fact of Julie being his wife, and her being here in the flesh were two wholly separate beasts- Kendra could cope with the first, but the second was a little harder to stomach. She didn’t like to consider herself a jealous person, but the idea of Julie being in there with Lyor, maybe holding his hand while she told him he was going to get through this, made her toes curl.

Across from her, the daisies gleamed mockingly. Kendra scowled- The had no business being so cheerful. For the second time that day, Kendra wished for some company. She had offhandedly hoped that Seth might have followed her outside, but it was a stupid thought. She knew that Seth wouldn’t be leaving Lyor’s side.

As if sent down from heaven, a message lit up her phone screen, and as Kendra glanced down she saw it was from Aaron. Kendra smiled. Aaron had never been somebody she’d been much interested in outside of work before, but since April she’d really taken a shine to him. She appreciated him for things like this- he was always reliable, always there when she needed him.

She opened up the message:

 **Aaron:** _How is he?_

Kendra frowned as she thought out her reply. She didn’t want to risk sounding too pessimistic, but the realist in her warned that things weren’t looking as sunny as the mural in front of her.

 **Kendra:** _Awake. We’re still not sure what’s wrong but he seems alright atm_

Aaron’s response was instant.

 **Aaron:** _Keep me updated_

Kendra smirked as she thumbed out her reply.

 **Kendra:** _Awwww_

 **Kendra:** _You do care!_

 **Aaron:** _Don’t you dare tell him_

 **Kendra:** _:P_

Kendra chuckled under her breath. Aaron’s relationship with Lyor was a funny one. They were constantly at each other’s throats, but Aaron seemed to have developed a protectiveness over him that went beyond professional concern. She would have attributed it to respect for Seth’s bond with him, had Kendra not remembered how swiftly Aaron had moved to stop Lyor from falling when he’d fainted in the Oval Office, or the careful way he’d gathered Lyor to his chest and deposited him on the lounge. Lyor had a way of growing on people, it seemed.

Like mould, Aaron would probably complain.

But there was someone else Aaron was probably even more concerned about, Kendra remembered, and she typed out a new message.

 **Kendra:** _Seth’s here. He’s okay_

Aaron’s text bubble lingered for almost 30 seconds, dots disappearing and reappearing fitfully. Finally, Aaron just sent one word.

 **Aaron:** _Good_

Before Kendra could think of a suitable reply, Julie stepped out of Lyor’s room, promptly taking a seat beside her. Kendra kept her eyes steadfastly fixed on her phone, worried about what she’d see if she looked up. Something like satisfaction, maybe.

Julie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Seth seems nice,” she said mildly.

That caught Kendra’s attention. “He told you?” she asked incredulously, tearing her gaze from her screen to the woman beside her. Julie was gazing musingly at the mural, hands relaxed by her sides. She sounded like she was discussing meeting a new neighbour, not someone from beyond the grave.

“You seem so...calm?” Kendra finished lamely, trying not to gape too much.

Julie tilted her head towards her, mouth pursed in a wry little smile. “it’s Lyor. I can’t be surprised by any of the messes he gets himself into anymore,” she said with a laugh in her voice, and Kendra digested that. It was a fair enough assessment, logical in its simplicity, and certainly indicative of a deep understanding of Lyor; but in spite of that, it left Kendra feeling out of sorts. Or maybe _because_ of that.

Because Julie really was lovely; clever, and gorgeous, and witty, and in tune with all of Lyor’s eccentricities. She was everything that Lyor deserved and more. They were perfect for each other, really.

Kendra was distinctly unused to feeling inadequate. She didn’t care for it.

Kendra kept mulling for what felt like an age, before Julie let out a sharp sigh, drawing her attention. The other woman was eyeing her knowingly, that same smile stretched even wider. “Kendra,” she said, leaning in against her shoulder with a conspiratorial tone as if she was sharing some state secret. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Uh-“ Kendra stammered out, caught between embarrassment and indignation. Julie didn’t seem to mind.

“His name’s Colin,” she said affectionately, eyes warm. “He’s a doctor- a real McDreamy. We’ve been together a year now.”

“Oh.”

“He and Lyor know about each other.”

“ _Oh_.” Kendra reckoned she should probably be moving on from the monosyllables at this point, but the bombardment of hesitant relief and embarrassed confusion was making it hard to string together sentences.

“My point is,” Julie pressed on, “that Lyor and I aren’t together- not like that, anyway. Haven’t been for a long time. So, you two crazy kids have my blessing.”

Even the warm satisfaction of having her fears alleviated couldn’t stop the faint blush of pink spilling across Kendra’s cheeks. She grinned sheepishly. “He told you about that too, huh?”

Julie snorted. “He didn’t have to. I saw the way he looked at you as you left.”

Well, there was her green light. It didn’t leave Kendra feeling as confident as she’d have liked. She sighed, twisting her hands together. “I do want to be with him. I really do. But...” she sighed again, even deeper, as she looked to Julie. She seemed to have gotten the understanding of Lyor Boone down to a fine art. Who better to learn from than the master?

“But I don’t know how to get us to that point,” she said finally, thinking about how reserved he’d been about something as simple as a date. “I don’t think he’s comfortable opening himself up enough for a relationship, and I don’t want to push him.”

Julie hummed thoughtfully. Slowly, she said: “I don’t think Lyor has ever been comfortable in his life.”

Kendra’s lips quirked. She could believe that.

“Trust me,” Julie said, turning fully to face Kendra with a face that was achingly sincere. “When it comes to things like this, Lyor’s always gonna need that push. He doesn’t deal well with uncertainties, so the worst thing you can do is hold back. If you do, he’s going to slip away from you, and you’re never going to get him back.”

Julie clasped Kendra’s hand in hers. “Don’t let fear ruin this for you both,” she said firmly, then smiled approvingly. “You’re good for him.”

Kendra huffed out a laugh. “Am I? He got sent to the hospital on our first date,” she joked. Julie didn’t laugh along. Her eyes were sad as she looked back at the hospital room.

“He needs somebody right now, someone who understands him.” she said softly. “I’m not that person anymore. These past few months- you’re the one who’s been there for him, not me. You know what he’s gone through.” She turned back to Kendra, shaking her head mournfully.

“I’ve known Ly a long time,” she murmured. “I’ve never seen him look that... _small_.”

Kendra squeezed their hands together. She knew what Julie meant.

**—**

Seth was sitting, cross legged, on the end of Lyor’s bed, worrying at a loose piece of thread from the cheap cotton sheets. Stretched out between them, Seth could feel their connection, the suck and heave of it, draining energy like blood from a wound. With every passing second, Seth swore he could see Lyor’s pallor worsening. He did his best to look anywhere but at that pale, washed out face.

“So,” he said dully. “Now we know.”

“Now we know,” Lyor echoed. “At least it isn’t cancer. I wouldn’t look good bald.”

“Lyor, for the love of god, would you please shut up?” Seth snapped.

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyelids. “How could I not have realised?” he choked out through gritted teeth. “You’ve been exhausted for weeks. Every time I got stronger, you were getting weaker and weaker- ever since I showed myself to everybody. I just thought that-“

He cut himself of. He hadn’t fucking thought anything, that was the problem. Every time Lyor had stumbled a little as he walked, or fallen asleep at his desk, Seth had felt a little worried, but it always got swept away by the simple joy of speaking; being seen, being heard, by someone else. Seth felt intolerably stupid. He felt weak, greedy, self centred-

“I only collapsed.” Lyor’s pointed tone startled Seth out of his inner diatribe, and his head snapped up to glare at the other man.

“ _Only collapsed?_ Look at where you are!” Seth snarled. He felt sick with anger- at himself, at the cruel fuck in charge of the universe who’d thought this up, but right then, he was mostly frustrated at the non-reaction on Lyor’s face.

“And that’s just this time- you heard what the doctor said. Heart failure, Lyor! You could die- I could kill you!” Seth’s voice came undone at the end of his sentence, and he stared at Lyor; wide eyed and pleading. _Don’t let me do this to you,_ he begged silently.

Lyor’s mouth was drawn thin, lips white and bloodless. His fingers were pressed against his wrist, twitching sluggishly along with his pulse.

“We’ll figure this out,” he finally said, tone not brooking any argument, but Seth just shook his head. It was the same thing Lyor had said when he first relented to Seth’s presence in his apartment, all those months ago. Lyor always thought he could fix everything. Back then, Seth had probably thought he could as well. Death had seemed so simple, in the beginning.

He thought about his conversations with Aaron, nights of wordless companionship with the President, the softness of Kendra’s hair against his cheek as she pulled him in for a hug. He thought about that first wondrous spread of joy through his chest as he realised that the others could finally see him. He thought about everything being seen meant to him; everything it was worth.

He thought about what Lyor was worth.

“No,” Seth said, voice firmer than Lyor’s; firmer than anything he’d ever said before. “This has to stop.”


	19. The Choices We Make

Staff meetings had a different feel to them now. Ever since Rosemary Alvarez had joined their fold, nobody had spoken directly to Seth during them- they had all agreed she needed a little more time before finding out- but there had always been little looks, nods, smiles in his direction. And Seth had talked, raising arguments and counter arguments; butting heads with Lyor on PR tactics like it was the old days. But now there was none of that. Not now that none of the others could see him any longer.

Seth lingered by Lyor’s elbow, sullen and silent. The first few days, he’d tried injecting his thoughts by speaking through Lyor, but he didn’t seem to have the heart for it anymore. It hadn’t been as noticeable during Lyor’s week off after being released from hospital- ordered by both Schuler and the President- when Lyor was the only person Seth could have talked to anyway. But as soon as they returned to the White House, Seth’s change in mood had become clear. Lyor supposed it made sense- he had gone from having every privilege a ghost could feasibly have, to being shunted back to square one. But even so, Seth’s new moroseness was staggering.

This was worse than he’d been in the weeks before appearing to the others. Seth was almost as flat as he’d been the day after he realised he was dead. The only difference was that this time, he barely talked at all. Lyor wasn’t sure if ghosts could become depressed, but even if Seth was, there wasn’t anything Lyor could do to help. Talking about _feelings_ had never been his forte, and therapists for the dead weren’t exactly in high supply.

Well- there was something that he could do, what he’d been offering for Seth to let him do since the ghost had decided to dematerialise. But Seth was staunch in his refusal to drain anymore energy from Lyor.

Even if the others couldn’t see him, they could certainly sense the mood shift. Throughout the meeting, Aaron kept casting surreptitious, worried glances at the empty space by where Lyor stood. Kendra had taken to chewing her nails again. Even Rosemary seemed disconcerted, picking up on the anxious mood rolling through the entire staff. Schuler’s reaction, of course, was the most irritating. He kept twitching his gaze to the shadows on the walls as he spoke, as though expecting them to jump out at him. It was pathetically obvious that his concern wasn’t over Seth’s well-being or anything as conscientious as that- Schuler just wasn’t comfortable being in a room with a ghost that he couldn’t see.

The meeting wrapped up unceremoniously, and Lyor trudged off with Seth wilting at his heels. This was only day twelve of Seth’s dematerialisation, Lyor realised uneasily as he studied the defeated slump of his friend’s shoulders. How long could they possibly keep this up for?

“Just say the word,” Lyor muttered under his breath.

Seth shook his head. His lips were thin.

Another pair of footsteps clumped into pace beside them, and Lyor breathed in through his nostrils, grasping for resilience as Schuler’s infamous ginger mop bounded into view. The man seemed refreshingly withdrawn as he eyed the gap between himself and Lyor suspiciously. Schuler’s cockiness had really gone down a notch since that disastrous attempt at getting him fired. Neither man had said anything about it, but Lyor suspected that Seth had a hand in it.

So there had been far fewer shots at Lyor, and almost no protests against Seth’s presence at all. But Schuler was still perfectly adept at expressing his displeasure in a roundabout way.

“So...The ghost-?” Schuler began, hope flirting around the edges of his suggestion. Lyor took a vicious pleasure in quashing it.

“The ghost,” Lyor said mockingly, “is still here. You’re walking inside of him, actually.”

Schuler practically flung himself into the wall, letting out an admirable impression of a parrot getting its tail feathers ripped out as he went. Lyor angled a little smirk at Seth, walking safe and sound on his other side. His friend was a prankster at heart, and he seemed to take a special sort of pleasure in making Schuler squirm. But Lyor didn’t even get a lacklustre smile for his efforts. He wasn’t sure if Seth was even paying attention to the world around him.

Schuler had recovered quickly, scowling at Lyor’s still twitching lip. He seemed to think that if he puffed his chest out far enough he would somehow erase the way he’d nearly catapulted through the window a second ago.

“Well,” he sniffed prissily. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat with our pal Seth, I need to quickly run over- Lyor?”

Lyor had screeched to a halt, hand braced against his rapidly tightening chest. He felt as though all the air had been sucked out of him at once with a vacuum sealer. His heart was thumping so aggressively he could almost feel it pressing through his shirt.

“G-goddamnit...” Lyor hissed, blinking stars out of his vision. Finally, Seth seemed to snap out of his funk, and they exchanged a drawn out, panicked stare. This wasn’t supposed to be happening anymore.

Lyor gritted his teeth, but his feet stayed locked in place. He was almost certain that if he tried to take a single step forward, his legs would give out beneath him. But he had to try, what with the way Schuler was ogling him. His office was only a few metres away. Lyor managed a minuscule, shuffling step forward, and then-

 _Shit_. He careened wildly, lurching wildly towards Schuler as Seth reached out uselessly. Schuler let out a breathy “oof,” as Lyor’s shoulder caught him squarely in the chest, but he still laid a steadying hand on Lyor’s flailing arms.

“Take it easy, buddy,” he said, making to fling an arm around Lyor’s shoulders. “Let’s get you to your office-“

But Lyor was already shoving him away. He wasn’t fond of Schuler’s handsiness when they’d first met, but after the man’s blatant attempt to get him fired, Lyor would sooner chew glass than let the ginger prick lay a finger on him. “Get off me,” he snapped. “I’m not your buddy.”

The force of his push left the room spinning, and Lyor backed himself against the wall, the cold press of it against his spine the only thing stopping him from slumping to the ground. Around them, people were starting to stare.

He could hear Schuler still running his mouth: “For God’s sake- Tricia, could you give us a hand, please?” he called down the hall, and in a flash, Lyor’s PA appeared in his field of vision.

“Come on, Mr Boone. You don’t want to do this in the hallway,” she said, laying a firm hand on his arm. Lyor shook her off, glaring dazedly. As much as he hated all the eyes on him, the only person he could bear to touch him at that moment was Seth. But the ghost was still a step back, hands curled against his chest in obvious restraint. He’d been avoiding interactions with the physical world as much as possible, and had obviously decided- probably wisely- that drawing even a tiny amount of energy from Lyor right now to help would end badly.

“ _Mr Boone,_ ” Tricia implored.

“Lyor.” Seth’s voice commanded every ounce of Lyor’s attention, mostly because it was the first thing he’d said in hours. “Go with her.”

He growled, but finally relented, and he let Tricia loop his floppy arm around her shoulders, wrapping her own around his waist and tugging him along with surprising strength until they made the last few steps into Lyor’s office. They struggled inside, and Tricia deposited Lyor on his couch before promptly turning and clicking the door closed, much to his relief. Her face was pale with worry as she faced him again, but she didn’t waste any time fussing over him- another thing for which Lyor was grateful. Instead she just said, simply: “What do you need?”

Lyor waited until he was certain he could spit out more than an unintelligible garble of sounds before rasping: “Water.”

Tricia nodded sharply and snatched up the bottle of water Lyor had taken to keeping on his desk. She pressed it into Lyor’s heavy hands, and he tentatively brought it to his lips. He only spilt a little down his shirt. He took careful little sips until the concrete set of his limbs started easing away, and then he handed the bottle back to Tricia before flopping bonelessly against the pillows. Seth was perched on the arm of the couch, hawkishly watching the rise and fall of his chest.

Tricia was surveying him critically, mouth turned down. “If you need the hospital again-“ she started, but Lyor cut her off with a feeble wave of his hand.

“No, no, I’m fine.” He was already feeling better. And besides, no doctor couldn’t do anything for him. They wouldn’t know what could really make Lyor better- even though that didn’t seem to be working anymore. “Thank you,” he added, with feeling.

Tricia gave him one last discerning look before nodding sharply and turning on her heel, knowing instinctively that Lyor was asking for privacy. Lyor watched her go and reflected, distantly, that she needed a raise.

Lyor flopped his head against the hard back of the couch, letting his eyes flutter closed. He stayed like that for what could have only been a few minutes, but felt like hours. When he finally cracked them open again, Seth was still watching him worriedly, tracing his still slightly trembling form with keen eyes.

“This is bad,” Seth said, then swallowed. “I thought I was doing enough. I’m sorry.”

Lyor had thought that as well. He hadn’t even been happy with this solution, knowing how miserable it was going to leave Seth, but at least he had been able to reassure himself that, in the end, it was the practical choice. But that justification had just been blown away.

There was something wholly unsettling about the face Seth was making. It brought to mind a man staring down a barrel of a gun. It was, Lyor realised suddenly, the same face the President had right before he’d declared war.

“You know there’s only one way to fix this,” Seth said grimly.

Lyor was too drained to interpret that cryptic tone. He slowly eased himself up, massaging the bridge of his nose. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“I’m the drain,” Seth said. His voice was deathly quiet, his body deathly still. “As long as I’m still here, then you’re going to be getting weaker.”

Even through his exhaustion, Lyor could tell there was something very wrong here. “...What the hell are you talking about, Seth?”

Seth folded his arms tightly across his chest, a protective gesture. His gaze was unrelenting as he stared Lyor down.

“I’m talking about passing on.”

All other thoughts came to a standstill as Lyor tried to parse the meaning behind those words. He couldn’t possibly mean-? But as he stared up at Seth’s rigid form, that same grave expression fixed on his face, Lyor felt the ground fall out from beneath him.

“No,” he said, a hint of a laugh in his voice, because he still couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. But then, again, with an icy harshness. “No.”

“Would you just hear me out?” Seth snapped. He drew himself up, chin tilted stubbornly. He didn’t look ready to back down even with a gun to his head.

But Lyor wasn’t going to go down without a fight either. “No,” he said again, flatly. “Because there’s nothing to talk about. You’re not making any sense.”

The last words leapt out of him with a stunning ferocity that surprised even him. Nothing that involved Seth leaving made the tiniest bit of sense. He was still glaring hotly at the ghost when the door cracked open and Kendra poked her head in. At any other moment, Lyor would have been delighted- he had barely spent any time with Kendra in the nearly two weeks since their date, what with being in hospital and then dealing with Seth’s new situation- but right now he barely noticed her.

“What doesn’t make sense?” she asked, closing the door again behind her. Tricia must have sent her. Probably to convince him to take it easy for the rest of the day. And then the realisation struck him- this was perfect. There was no better arguer in Washington than Kendra Daynes- and she’d be taking his side in this, there was no doubt about it.

“Seth thinks I’m still getting weaker by his mere existence. He wants to _pass over_ ,” Lyor spat. Kendra’s mouth dropped open, head snapping to where Lyor was glaring. “But it’s not going to happen.”

Seth’s eyes were burning as well now. Lyor had almost forgotten how intense he could get when he was really, truly set on something. It was like staring into the sun. “If we keep on like this, then you’ll die, Lyor,” he said. “You. Will. Die. Is that what you want?”

The ghost scrubbed a hand through his hair, shaking his head almost violently as he pushed himself off of the arm of the couch and started pacing. “When you collapsed, when I thought you’d died- it was only a few hours, and it was the worst feeling in the world. If you died for real, I-I can’t let that happen.” He spun back around suddenly, eyes wide and imploring as he marched right up to Lyor.

“Listen, remember what I said to you in that graveyard?” Seth urged. “I told you that I’d never trade my life for yours. That wasn’t just talk. This is reasonable-“

Lyor huffed indelicately. “This is the furthest thing from reason in the world.”

“Oh really? Seth snapped. He was getting angry now, Lyor could tell. “Give me one logical reason why we shouldn’t do this.”

And that was the problem. Lyor knew, realistically, that this was the most utilitarian choice they could make. It was logical. But Lyor also knew that there was absolutely no chance that he could ever let this happen. For the first time in his life, he decided that logic could be damned.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lyor could see Kendra’s perturbed face. This one-sided argument must have seemed utterly bizarre to her. It would be easier to get her arguing on his side if she could actually hear everything that was being said, but Lyor didn’t have the time to translate.

“Because- because-“ he spluttered, eyes narrowed. “A life for a life is not-“

Seth barked out a bitter laugh, spreading his arms wide. “This?” He gestured to himself. “This isn’t a life, Lyor! You think I want to be stuck like this forever? I can’t let you die for this!”

A sudden, peculiar calm fell over Lyor like an icy shower. He felt his lips pull back into a cold, sharp baring of teeth. “Oh, I see how it is. I understand. You run up against a wall and you ignore all other options in favour of sacrificing yourself.” He advanced on Seth, willing the other man to back away. He stood his ground, so Lyor ended up nose to nose with him instead. “Are you trying to prove some sort of point?” he sneered. “That just because you could never get your dad to love you, that you can still be worth something by playing the damn hero? Well, nobody’s impressed. It’s this sort of moronic ego-pandering that got you killed in the first place!”

Distantly, Lyor heard Kendra’s sharp intake of breath. Somewhere within him, he was horrified by what he was saying. But a more insistent voice in his head was screaming at him to dig deeper, draw blood, make it _hurt_.

If he could make Seth hate him, then he wouldn’t be worth dying for.

Or maybe he just didn’t want to be the only one in agony right now.

At first, Seth seemed staggered, stepping backwards with eyes that were wide and wet with stinging betrayal. But then, quickly, cold fury slid over to take its place.

“Fuck you,” Seth spat. “ _Fuck you_. This has been about you since the beginning. First you wish that I’d never come back, and now you won’t let me leave. Have you ever thought about what I need? Or are you too focused on protecting your own feelings, because you’re so goddamn stunted that you don’t know how to handle grief like a grown up? Could you try not being selfish for once in your damn life?”

Lyor laughed cruelly, incredulously. “You’re calling me selfish? Do you even know what the word means? I’m trying to save you-“

“No, you’re trying to save your emotional crutch- even if you kill yourself doing it. Well, I’m not going to help you destroy yourself!”

Seth raked a hand across his face, turning away disgustedly. “I need some air,” he muttered as he stormed towards the door.

“No, you don’t- you’re dead!” Lyor couldn’t help throwing after him. But it was too late- Seth had already melted through the door and out of sight.

As soon as Seth had gone, all the coiled fervour that had been building inside Lyor like a spring suddenly burst forth, and he slammed his palm down on his desk. It made a satisfying rattle, but it wasn’t enough to placate him. Lyor started tracing out the same path Seth had been pacing just a minute ago, tearing his hands through his hair hard enough to hurt. How the hell had it come to this? Something had to be seriously wrong in Seth’s head for him to be even thinking of-

His inner tirade was interrupted by Kendra’s sharp, ringing voice. “Lyor, you have to calm down.”

“I am calm!”

He tried to turn another pace again, but was stopped when Kendra planted herself in his path. She put a firm hand on his chest. Under her touch, his heart was hammering like a motorcycle engine.

“I need you to take a deep breath and look at me,” she ordered, and Lyor couldn’t help but comply. He sucked in a lungful of air, felt her hand go with his chest as it heaved in and out, guiding him through the motion. She smoothed her hand across to his arm, dropping down to capture his wrist between her long fingers.

“Listen to me, Lyor,” she murmured, and Lyor felt his eyes slip closed. “I think you need to hear Seth out.”

His eyes flew open again. “What?” he bit out. Kendra’s eyes were bright and pleading, but all of a sudden Lyor felt like he was looking at a complete stranger. He jerked his wrist from her grasp.

Kendra looked crestfallen as he pulled away, but she didn’t hesitate before speaking. “He’s right,” she said urgently. “Every day he stays is another day you’re getting weaker. I don’t want him to go either, but....” She blinked away a sudden glossiness to her eyes. “He’s already dead, Lyor. You’re not. He’s just trying to make the best of a terrible situation.”

The best out of a terrible situation? In what world was Seth dying again the best? In every imagining- in every possible universe- Seth’s death was the worst case scenario.

“How can you say that?” Lyor breathed. He stepped away, stalking towards the door, suddenly unable to be anywhere near her. Kendra didn’t try to stop him. As he ripped the door open, he couldn’t help but curse up at the walls around him.

“Am I the only sane person in this damn building?”

Lyor got about ten paces before it suddenly occurred to him that, no, perhaps he wasn’t. He couldn’t believe he was even considering this, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And if Kendra Daynes, the person who Lyor had always trusted to have his back, had turned on him, then maybe- in some bizarre way- it made sense for him to go to the person he’d always trusted to disagree with him about everything. This day had been just ridiculous enough for it to work. And if he wanted to find the other person who was sure to have Seth’s best interests at heart, then this was definitely the way to go.

He determinedly changed direction, not breaking pace until he reached the right office. Lyor didn’t even bother knocking, instead just barging right in. “I need you to talk some sense into Seth.”

“Maybe try knocking before you start demanding things of me,” Aaron replied dryly. He was reclined in his chair, looking almost relaxed. The sight of it made Lyor’s eye twitch- nobody should be feeling calm right now.

“I don’t have time for this,” Lyor snapped impatiently. “Seth wants to pass over.”

That caught Aaron’s attention. “Wait- what?” he said, tension instantly flooding back into every inch of him.

“He’s got it into his head that him passing over is the only thing that’s going to stop me from deteriorating,” Lyor said, feeling himself slipping into a rant. “Seems to me like he’s just demoralised because he’s back to being stuck with just me and he’s being dramatic about it all. Either way, he’s not listening to me, but he actually seems to value your opinion, so you need to talk to him.”

He dropped into the chair opposite, vibrating from head to toe. “He’s being ridiculous.”

This was the part where Aaron was supposed to, for once, agree. He was supposed to say: “Of course, he’s an idiot,” and then maybe they’d get the President on their side, just to really sell it, and then they’d track down Seth and corner him and convince him that there was another way, because _there had to be._

But Aaron didn’t look about to do any of that. His face had gone from one of alarm to quiet, reluctant contemplation. Tense, Lyor waited.

Aaron slowly met his eyes. “...He said he wants to go?”

Lyor stared. That was not the correct tone. And it definitely wasn’t the correct question. “What he wants isn’t the issue here,” he snapped.

“I think it’s exactly the issue.” Aaron leaned back, giving him an appraising look. “I thought you supported euthanasia?”

“That’s not- this isn’t- Do not throw my politics back in my face,” Lyor seethed. Why was nobody else getting the point? “The comparison doesn’t hold water, anyway. He isn’t suffering, for one.”

“Really?” Aaron said. “You’re going to look at how he is now and tell me he isn’t suffering?”

He could have flung Lyor’s anger right back at him, like he’d done so many times before. But Aaron right then seemed dubious in a gentle way, like he was trying to nudge Lyor in the right direction. Lyor resented it, but he couldn’t help but hesitate as he mulled over Aaron’s words. Seth had been a shadow of himself since losing everyone but Lyor, whatever life that a ghost could have slowly dribbling out of him over the last two weeks. Lyor tried to imagine him like that a month from now, or a year. Or five. He dropped his gaze.

“What, so you think I’m being selfish too?” he muttered.

“Yeah,” Aaron said simply. “I do.”

Lyor scowled, but Aaron continued on, voice not unkind. “I think you want to do the right thing. But I also think you’re scared, and that’s stopping you from seeing what that really means. For Seth.”

Death- that was the right thing for Seth? Lyor considered how Seth had looked, laid out on the floor, eyes blank. He set his jaw. _No_.

“I don’t understand how you can be okay with this?” Lyor asked, but the heat was gone from his voice. There was only confusion. “Seth is your friend.”

Aaron was silent for a long moment. “This isn’t easy for any of us, okay?” he said finally. “I’m losing my friend- I have to lose him twice. And no, I’m not okay with that.” Aaron was working the muscles in his jaw furiously, eyes suspiciously bright, and Lyor suddenly wanted to look away.

He continued on, voice heavy. “But I’m going to have to learn to be, because the most important thing is that Seth is at peace. So you’re going to have to be okay with it too.”

Lyor folded his arms, not meeting Aaron’s eyes as the other man gave him a meaningful look. “You care about him, Lyor, I know you do,” he murmured. “Make that mean something.”

Aaron’s phone beeped, and he stood with a grimace. As he walked to the door, he hesitated for a beat beside Lyor’s chair, stopping to lay a split-second hand on Lyor’s shoulder before continuing on.

Lyor didn’t move at the touch. He didn’t move long after Aaron left.

**—**

Tom moved slowly through the halls of the White House. Kendra had told him everything- she’d come to talk to him about work, but she’d seemed barely there, almost in tears- nothing like the Kendra he knew at all. It had only taken a minute of gentle prying for it all to tumble out; Lyor’s near-collapse, Seth’s decision, everything. He’d sent her to take a moment, and then he’d set out immediately.

He’d checked all the usual places- except Lyor’s office, for obvious reasons. It sounded like they’d had a real blowout. But, he’d gone to Kendra’s, and Aaron’s, the Oval, the Rose Garden, hoping he’d get lucky. Seth was a hard man to find these days.

But, Tom realised as he checked his watch, he hadn’t checked the most obvious place of all.

He edged open the door to the Press Secretary’s office. Just as he thought, Rosemary was at a briefing. The office was devoid of life.

But, Tom realised as that familiar cold curled around him, it wasn’t empty.

“Seth?” he called softly. He couldn’t see Seth, but the air almost seemed to flex around him in answer. Tom sighed- he longed to do this face to face, but this would have to do.

“Kendra told me about what you said to Lyor,” he said slowly, leaning against the desk. He wondered how close Seth was. “You really want to move on?

Silence.

“I know, you can’t talk. Here-“ Tom unsheathed a piece of printing paper and laid it on the desk, placing a pen atop it. “If you want.”

The pen didn’t move. Tom looked down, weighing his words carefully. This was going to be the most important speech he’d ever give in his life.

“You know the hardest thing about being the President?” he started. The room buzzed in anticipation. “The fact that I have to make the hardest decisions in the world- with people’s lives in my hands- and then I just have to sit back and watch them play out. Men have died in battles that I’ve sent them into.”

Tom swallowed, eyes sliding closed. Behind his eyelids, the faces flashed, like a photo reel he couldn’t stop; everyone he couldn’t save. He could never forget it, not when those faces played in his head every night.

Commander Max Clarkson. Jason Atwood. Russell Donson. Captain Will Griffin. John Forstell. Alex. Seth.

“And there will probably be more,” Tom continued heavily. “I come into work every day to a building full of people who are expected to dive in front of a bullet for me. If they do, I have to live with that.” Always, always. He was always the one left behind. The weight of a life was impossible to hold in two hands, especially when he knew that there was absolutely nothing he could do to save it. There was never a deal that could be made, no way to swap places. As President, Tom was doomed to be the survivor, every time.

But for Seth, there were two paths to choose from. Tom didn’t know if that made it easier or harder. All he knew was that he would take that position over his own in a heartbeat.

“Seth, you have the hardest choice in the world in front of you,” Tom murmured. “And you’re the only one who can make it. But I envy you. Because you have the opportunity to save a life instead. You can leave this world an even better place.”

There was a shuddering in the air, a protest of particles. After a long, torturous minute, Tom watched the pen on the desk twitch, roll, and finally lift into the air, spilling ink across the paper. It was mesmerising to watch. Before his eyes, a string of words darkened on the page, messy and frantic, before the pen fell to the desk with a clatter. With trepidation in his gut, Tom tugged the sheet towards him. The handwriting was uneven, as if done with a violently shaking hand, but still instantly recognisable as Seth’s.

_I don’t want to go_

Tom squeezed his lips together. There was heat building behind his eyes, threatening to spill out any minute.

“I know,” he managed. “But you know that you have to.”

The paper suddenly crumpled violently, scrunched into a ball by an invisible hand. Then, with a defeated slump, it slid off the table and out of sight. Tom sucked in a gasp of icy air, tried to form words through the feeling of his heart breaking in two. Even knowing that Seth knew this was the right choice, that he was set on doing this anyway, didn’t make it easier. Nothing ever did.

“Seth, you’ve been so brave. Braver than I can even imagine,” Tom said, choking on every syllable. The air around him heaved like a sob.

“Now you just have to be brave one last time.”

Once again, Tom was the survivor, sending someone off to their death. It never got easier for him. He hoped, at least, he could make it easier for Seth. But in the end, Tom knew that this was Seth’s choice to make; it would always be his choice alone. The knowledge of it settled weightily in Tom’s chest. It felt something like pride. It felt like letting go.

There was a hollow silence. Nothing else in the room stirred. There was nothing else he could do so, with a heavy heart, Tom left the room.

**—**

Seth turned the paper ball over and over in his hands, almost dropping it from the violent shaking of his fingers- the devastation that he hadn’t dared to show in front of Lyor was now leaking out of him in a steady eruption. He gazed at it like it was a crystal ball, as if it would tell him what he should do if he looked hard enough. The words were hidden, but they still ran endlessly through Seth’s mind. _I don’t want to go I don’t wan’t to go I don’t want to go-_

But since when had this ever been about wanting? This was about what he needed.

Seth let the paper melt through his formless palms. He didn’t need a crystal ball. He didn’t even need the President’s words, though he held those close to his chest anyway. He knew what he needed to do.

This, sitting alone on the floor of an office that wasn’t his anymore, it wasn’t how Seth had pictured this going. He wished he could have a chance to say goodbye at least, the way he’d never gotten to the first time around. But Seth was pretty sure if he let himself see his friends’ faces one more time then he’d find a way to talk himself out of this. No, it was better this way. Like ripping off a bandaid, right? Besides, Lyor probably wouldn’t accept a goodbye anyway.

Seth wished for so many things. He wished that his last words to Lyor hadn’t been spitting insults. He wished he could have gone without his last memory of Lyor being the man’s face twisted in horror and rage and desperate fear. He wished he could have seen Lyor finally pull his head out of his ass and kiss Kendra.

He wished he could have gotten to see Lyor happy. The way Seth knew he could be.

_This was about what he needed._

Seth just hoped that, one day, Lyor could forgive him for this.

He let his eyes slip closed. In the darkness, he tried to forget his body, this illusion of life. Instead, he reached for that thrumming thread of energy. This was the key, Seth knew. It was like air in his lungs, blood in his veins. This was what was keeping him here. Seth called to it and, dutifully, eagerly, it rose to meet him; coiling around his grasp. It purred beneath his touch. Seth dug his grip tight into the depths of it, taking as much as he could. It felt warm. It felt like home.

Seth snapped the thread.

The last thing he heard was the rising roar of the water.


	20. Broken Pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very special chapter, as it marks the day that Designated Survivor was renewed!!! So, in honour of the event, I am causing everyone a healing of pain.

“Seth?”

The ringing silence of the empty apartment was Lyor’s only answer. He clicked his tongue irritatedly, tossing his bag onto the lounge. Ever since storming out after their screaming match on Thursday, Seth had been hiding, cloaking himself in invisibility to avoid talking to him. Which was irritating- because Lyor still had an encyclopaedia’s worth of words for him- and also, quite frankly, a bastard move, because Seth had to know that disappearing was a drain on Lyor’s precious energy that he was so goddamn eager to preserve.

Lyor hadn’t bothered trying to get him to snap out of it the first day, or even the second. He’d been too furious for words then, and if Seth had wanted to sulk it out, then fine- Lyor hadn’t particularly wanted to see him either. It could give him some time to clear his head and realise how idiotic his suicide mission really was. Lyor was still angry now, but this disappearing act was growing tiresome. The whole reason why they were arguing was because Lyor actually wanted him around, after all. Seth’s absence was really starting to drag at his mind, especially after- Lyor checked his phone- exactly two days and ten hours of it.

“Really?” Lyor called out to wherever it was that Seth was hiding. “This is childish, even by your standards.”

There was no answer. Of course. Lyor shrugged it off exhaustedly. Seth would get tired of this eventually, but right now, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there forever.

Which was Seth’s fault. The idiot.

.....

“It’s been four days,” Lyor said sullenly into the gloom. “You can’t avoid me forever.”

He was stretched out on the couch in his living room, watching the hours tick by on his dimmed phone screen. The numbers read 4:23 AM. He was so tired he was pretty sure he was going to start hallucinating for real soon, but as much as he knew he needed it, Lyor refused to give into sleep. The nightmares, which had actually been waning quite a bit in the last month, had come back with a vengeance.

So, in lieu of indulging in his body’s most basic needs, Lyor had instead taken to talking to Seth. The one-sided conversations had grown tedious fairly quickly, but Lyor figured that if he rambled for long enough then Seth would reappear, if only to yell at him to shut the hell up. And he had a lot to say- it wasn’t as if there was anyone else for him to talk to.

Lyor wasn’t one to get lonely. He had happily isolated himself from the majority of the human population for most of his life. But, as much as he loathed to admit it, spending the last few months in the 24/7 company of another had caused a bit of a dependence to develop. And who else was there to fill the void?

Not Kendra, not anymore, Lyor thought bitterly. She had made her position quite clear, and it wasn’t one that he was interested in engaging in. Unfortunately, his other options left much to be desired. The President was strictly work-only for Lyor. Rosemary Alvarez seemed decent enough, but she had seemed to decide early on that Lyor was someone best to be avoided. The idea of chewing the fat with Keith Schuler was laughable. And Aaron, of course, was just as bad as Kendra.

Lyor felt suddenly gripped by a bizarre urge to ring up Emily. If only because talking to her would feel being like a universe away from his current problems. It could be refreshing, he considered, to chat with someone who had no idea about what had been going on the last few months.

....Okay, if Lyor was seriously considering ringing up his traitorous ex-boss at 4 in the morning, then that was probably a sign that he really did need to sleep. He tentatively closed his eyes, just to rest them for a second....

The pure disorientation of waking up in the living room instead of the bedroom was enough to catch the scream in Lyor’s throat as he bolted awake, so he supposed he should be grateful for his choice of sleeping arrangements, even if his back was protesting very loudly.

Lyor nudged his glasses back on from where they’d nearly slid off his nose and peered around hopefully.

No Seth.

He sank back into the cushions. Lyor remembered another time that he had fallen asleep on the couch. It was back in the early days of Seth’s return, when Lyor was making his first tentative explorations into talking properly with the ghost. He’d accidentally fallen asleep mid conversation, and had woken up the next morning with his glasses on the coffee table and a blanket draped snugly around him.

There was no blanket this time. The air wasn’t icy, but Lyor still felt cold.

.....

The good news was that Lyor now knew the difference between the ‘About-To-Collapse-Because-A-Ghost-Is-Draining-My-Energy’ type of tired and the regular, dull ‘Depression’ type of tired.

Lyor had thought there was something a little off about how he was feeling- he had been tired constantly, but without the stumbling, or the heart palpitations, or the, well, fainting that had accompanied his Seth-related exhaustion. On the contrary, Lyor had felt perpetually sluggish, but only in the sense that he wanted to curl up and hide from the world forever. He had only clued to the difference this morning when, while lying in bed and considering whether he even had the energy to have a shower, he had realised that this was exactly what he’d been feeling the first three weeks after Taurasi. He had never experienced this when Seth was around.

The bad news was....

Well.

“Please,” Lyor tried, biting his lip at the oppressive quiet around him. He wasn’t going to stop trying, though, not until he knew for sure that it was useless. He wasn’t going to give up on Seth. “I want to talk. And...to apologise. I know I was being unfair.”

Unfair was being generous. Lyor recoiled with disgust every time the memory of what he’d said to Seth surfaced. An apology was barely cutting it. As for actually, seriously discussing Seth passing on....Lyor still felt himself dragging his heels in protest. There had to be another way to fix this- Lyor was always able to wriggle his way out of any web he got caught in. Seth probably wouldn’t agree, but they’d cross that bridge when they got to it. First, Lyor actually had to get Seth to reappear.

Assuming disappearing was all Seth had done. Assuming he hadn’t done something stupid. Assuming the creeping suspicion in the back of Lyor’s mind was wrong.

“Just move something at least, so I know you’re here?” Lyor asked desperately. _Prove me wrong,_ he added silently. He tightened his grip on his mug, staring dully at the the murky dregs of his coffee. He hated that he had to resort to caffeine, but it was the only way he’d been surviving work this last week.

“You can even throw my favourite mug,” Lyor said, waving it around in offering. “At my face, if you like,” he added after a second. He would deserve it.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Lyor slammed the mug down on his kitchen counter. He needed to head to work. Maybe it would stop him from agonising over this, even for a minute. Lyor doubted it though; not even work could distract him anymore. 

But he gave it his damndest. There was a lot that needed to be done, and Lyor cut through the workload as if with a scythe. This, at least, was something he could do, something he could achieve. The worries would always creep back in, though.

Lyor was sitting at his desk, staring at his computer and hoping vaguely that the bright screen would burn away those nagging thoughts from his brain, when there was a quiet knock at his door. Pathetic, irrational hope caused his head to rocket up- would Seth announce himself by knocking at the door, just to be even more of an asshole?- but it was only Kendra, poking her head in cautiously. Lyor dropped his chin back into his hand, lips pulled into a frown. It was still an uncomfortably foreign expression for him to be directing at Kendra, but Lyor supposed he’d get used to it.

Kendra was doing her best to appear casual, as if they hadn’t gone nearly a week without speaking a word to each other outside of professional courtesy. “Hey Lyor,” she greeted. Then, as if in question: “Hey Seth.”

“He’s not here,” Lyor replied flatly.

“Still?” Kendra stepped fully into the room at that, crossing her arms in consternation. “It’s been a week.”

Lyor dug his blunt fingernails into his cheek. He wasn’t even looking at her at this point, eyes steadily trained on his screen. “I am wildly aware.”

Kendra was silent. Even without looking at her, Lyor could tell she was thinking what he had been fearing- the anxiety was rolling off her like a stench. But any minute now, he knew she was going to suggest a brighter alternative. That was Kendra- always considering every option.

Except when it came to Seth passing over.

“He probably just needs space,” Kendra concluded, right on cue. Lyor resisted the urge to snort at the perfection of his prediction. “He wouldn’t have-“ she cut herself off then, carrying on a little more unsurely. “Not without saying goodbye, at least.”

Lyor didn’t say anything. Kendra sighed. “Come on,” she prompted, jerking her head in the direction of the door. “The President wants us.”

Lyor stood, still without a word, and walked over. Kendra didn’t move, however, and they ended up locked in an awkward standstill in the doorway. Kendra peered up at him, and Lyor deliberately looked anywhere but into those soulful brown eyes. They were hard to avoid, though, and he felt his gaze dragged down to them like gravity. They were narrowed, searching- she could probably tell he hadn’t been sleeping again. Undoubtedly, she was scanning every inch of his frame, trying to see if he’d fallen back into other old habits. She wouldn’t find what she was looking for; Lyor had managed to eat four out of the six days since Seth’s disappearance. That didn’t count as starving himself- it was more than he’d been eating back in those first two months, at any rate.

Kendra was the picture of restraint. Her mouth opened, but then she seemed to lose her voice. Her fingers were twitching, as if to reach out to him, but she seemed to think better of that as well. Lyor was grateful; he didn’t want to have to pull away from her again. With one final sigh, Kendra started out the door, leaving room for Lyor to follow.

The meeting was fairly run-of-the-mill. There was some trouble at the Mexican border, but what else was new? It wasn’t a massive issue for the moment, but Aaron was there for discussing the slim chance of things getting ugly- there had been rumours. With the National Security Advisor there, it was a full house.

Lyor chipped in- perhaps a little more often than necessary- throwing his focus wholeheartedly on the issue in front of him. He was nodding along vehemently with what Rosemary was saying- funny, that Seth had recommended a Press Secretary he could actually agree with on some things.

“In regards to stopping the press blowing this out of proportion, I think I can avoid-“ Rosemary was saying, but faltered slightly when the lights blinked out for half a second. They all looked up at the bulb with mild curiosity- that sort of thing tended not to happen in a building with such good upkeep as this- but when the light remained static, the room lost interest.

Rosemary cleared her throat. “As I was saying-“

The walls of the Oval Office seemed to groan under some invisible weight. Even the windows rattled in their panes. Silence swallowed the room as they all gave each other troubled looks. Feeling the very foundations of the building shudder like that seemed as foreboding as the sound of gunshots. Lyor ran through a rapid-fire assessment in his head: it could potentially be an earthquake...or could this be the prelude to some sort of terrorist attack? If terrorists had gotten to the Capitol, they could get to the White House.

The President stood, ready to ask the Secret Service Agent on duty what was going on, but before he could even gesture for the door to be opened, the flickering lightbulb from before shattered with a burst, a miniature bomb all of its own. Rosemary, who’d been standing directly underneath, yelped at the sound, and Schuler yanked her out of the way as glittering shards of glass rained down from above.

“What was that?” she demanded. But nobody answered. In the split second after the bulb shattered, everybody’s gaze except Rosemary’s swivelled mechanically to face Lyor as the room was plunged into a suffocating, bone-numbing chill.

Lyor’s knees nearly buckled as he felt a spasmodic pulse of energy tear from him. But through it, his face still stretched into a manic grin, wide and painful and delirious with relief. _Took you long enough, you bastard._

But as he glanced around expectantly, eager to see that infuriating, familiar face, Lyor realised that Seth still wasn’t there. The others were peering around anxiously as well. A photo frame on the President’s desk had toppled face down, and there was a dull, rhythmic thudding that Lyor could have mistaken for his own heart in his ears until Tom jumped away and they all realised it was the sound of one of his desk drawers, opening and closing of its own accord.

“Lyor? What’s going on?” Kendra asked urgently. Her breath crystallised in the air.

Lyor was breathing deeply as well, an icy trail freezing its way down to his lungs. “I don’t know.”

The desk drawer was slamming faster and faster, hastening into a deafening crescendo before, with one final ear-splitting bang, it stilled, along with everything else in the room. With bulging eyes and bated breath, they all exchanged terrified looks, waiting for what was to come next.

Then, a sharp intake of breath from the President. There was a harrowing certainty brewing in Lyor’s stomach, even before he turned to see the hunched figure in the centre of the room.

“What is that?” Rosemary demanded, normally unshakeable monotone raised to a near-shrill. “Excuse me, what the hell is that?”

Lyor took a step forward. “Seth-“

Slowly, slowly, Seth looked up.

The President’s breathing was uneven, his face chalk white. “H-his face...” he breathed.

Every muscle in Lyor’s body had locked up. His synapses were shrieking out orders to his lungs for him to _breathe, damnit,_ but he couldn’t. It was no wonder Rosemary had asked ‘what’ and not ‘who’ this was, Lyor reflected numbly, because Seth looked barely human.

There was his shirt, torn to near shreds and painted to his skin with the dark spread of wet mud and blood. There was the way his left arm dangled limply by his side, like a that of a rag doll. There was that ghastly wound splitting his stomach, still weeping with black, tarry blood. But the worst of it was Seth’s face. It had been so long since Lyor had seen it in anything but nightmares that he’d almost forgotten the exact pattern of the stormy bruises swallowing up Seth’s skin, the beading rivulets of blood, or that sunken, lopsided shadow where his cheekbone had been smashed to pieces. The look on Seth’s face was terrible. It occurred to Lyor suddenly that he had never properly appreciated the fact that Seth’s ghost had taken the form of how he had been before the tsunami, now that he saw this awful puppetry; the sagging remains of Seth’s battered body held up in a mockery of movement. He would never have been able to handle this.

For the first time since Seth had returned, as he stared at those sunken eyes and ruined body, Lyor truly processed the fact that he was looking at something dead.

There was an odd heaving and rattling of Seth’s chest that Lyor couldn’t figure out, until he realised it was supposed to be breathing. Seth hadn’t done that for a long, long time. The man’s lips twitched feebly, and then he spoke; a gurgling whine: “Lyor, what’s happening?”

Lyor shook his head wordlessly. Everybody seemed to expect him to have answers that he didn’t today. Being helpless to answer Seth was killing him though, especially as the ghost began to tremble violently, little cough-like gasps exploding from his mouth.

For a moment it seemed like Seth would be silent forever, but then his mouth dropped open again.

“Don’t leave. I don’t- I-I don’t wanna die alone. I- Please, Lyor.”

Somewhere in the room, Aaron was making an awful choking sound, but Lyor could only hear the keening gasp that ripped from his own mouth. Because now he noticed the way that Seth’s eyes were boring straight through him, looking to another place, another time. Now he recognised the string of words spilling from Seth’s mouth.

Another pause, longer and more terrible than the last. Then: “Promise?” Seth asked, like a child.

Lyor almost mouthed along with the words that he remembered saying in response, the first time he’d heard this. _I promise._

Seth nodded jerkily, hands twitching, and Lyor knew what was about to come next. He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut but his body wasn’t cooperating with him. All he could do was stare as Seth rasped out: “Lyor.....are-are you.....” His lips fluttered once more, until finally his head lolled to his chest, silent. It was over.

But no, not over, not at all. Because after a few solid seconds of Seth in a freeze-frame of his moment of death, it was like a switch had been flicked, and his head jerked sluggishly up again.

“Lyor,” he said, exactly the same as before. “What’s going on?”

Lyor was trembling from head to toe; he could feel it now, his teeth rattling in his skull. There was a frantic muttering from somewhere in the room- something that sounded like a prayer- reminding him like a slap in the face that there were other people in the room. The President and Rosemary were watching the whole morbid performance play out with tight-lipped horror. Schuler was pressed to the wall, puffs of frozen air halo-ing his face as he sucked in breath after hitching breath. Aaron was staring steadfastly at the ceiling, blinking furiously. The words were coming from Kendra, Lyor realised, but they weren’t a prayer at all. Merely a litany of exclamations, strung together seamlessly, ceaselessly.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” she chanted, over and over again. Her eyes were flooded with tears. “W-what’s he doing?”

““Don’t leave. I don’t- I-I don’t wanna die alone. I- Please, Lyor.”

Lyor swallowed, tried to remember how to speak. “Dying,” he finally breathed. “He’s dying.” He turned to Seth again, transfixed by the rhythmic rise and fall of the dead man’s shoulders. “Stop it,” he ordered. It came as barely a dry whisper, stripped from his barren throat.

“Promise?”

“Stop it, Seth,” Lyor tried again. He managed some volume this time, but there was a dangerous tremor in his voice as he spoke.

He barely got ten seconds respite before Seth opened his mouth again. “Lyor.....are-are you.....” he tried to ask, as if maybe this time he’d be able to get all the words out, and something inside Lyor snapped.

“Stop, Seth!” he screamed at the top of his lungs. “Stop it now! Stop!”

He spun away, unable to look anymore. His fists were balled and shaking uncontrollably, fingernails cutting deep enough into his palms that he could feel the warm trickle of blood. “Stop,” he cried out once more, but his own voice seemed thousands of miles away, because he wasn’t in the Oval Office anymore. He was knelt in a packed hotel foyer, next to his friend who was dying, dying, dying. He could still hear Seth’s slippery whispers-

“Lyorwhat’sgoingondon’tleaveIdon’tIdon’twannadiealoneIpleaseLyorpromiseLyorareyou-“

-but everything else had been wiped away. Lyor’s ears were filled with nothing else but the rush of the water, of the screaming, the endless screaming......

“-Lyor. Lyor.” There were hands resting on his shoulders, a face inches from his. Lyor slowly blinked himself back into awareness. He actually was kneeling, he realised, paralysed on the floor of the office. His next observation was that the hands on him were Kendra’s. There was a distant insistence inside that he was still supposed to be angry at her, but Lyor couldn’t do anything but lean into her reassuring touch.

When she gently tried to pull him up, though, Lyor withdrew.

“I can’t look,” he mumbled. Not at that, not again. This had been like something ripped straight from his nightmares- the only reason he knew he wasn’t actually asleep was because he still felt tired.

Kendra’s hands pushed firmer, massaging into his collarbone. “It’s okay, it’s over,” she murmured. “He’s...he’s gone.”

Lyor levelled his own breathing enough to listen, and sure enough, Seth’s voice couldn’t be heard at all. He felt a stab of relief, but it was hollow. The horror was gone, yes, but so was Seth. Again.

There was no fight left in him. Lyor let himself be eased off the floor, childlike and mute, clinging onto Kendra’s hand like a lifeline. He gave the room a surreptitious once-over, eyes lidded just in case, but Seth was definitely gone. The others were still there, huddled together in a tight knot as they whispered furiously, now and then casting glances back at where Seth had been standing.

“Come on,” Kendra murmured into his ear, shepherding him towards the door. Almost as an afterthought, she glanced back to their coworkers. “I’m taking him home,” she announced, glaring at the President and Schuler as if daring them to protest. Neither of them did. Beside them, Rosemary was still far too pale, and Lyor supposed the others had quite an explanation ahead of them. But he couldn’t care less about that right then.

Kendra didn’t try to get him to talk as they drove, which Lyor was wearily grateful for. He was too drained to do anything but rest his head against the car window- conversation was out of the question. It wasn’t until she pulled the car into park that he realised that by ‘home,’ Kendra meant her own apartment.

It was massive- far more so than his own place- but Lyor didn’t have the mind to appreciate it as Kendra led him to her couch. It was only as she drew away into the kitchen and Lyor spied the red stains coating her hands that he realised he must have bled on her, or realised that he was bleeding at all.

He glared despondently down at his palms, where tiny red crescents bloomed vivid against his pale flesh.

_Blood on his hands._

He would have bemoaned his use of such an overwrought metaphor if it hadn’t been so accurate. Lyor knew, without having to be told, that what was happening to Seth was his fault. He had been the one to try and stop the ghost from passing over, and he had obviously gone and tried something drastic on his own- something that had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

He didn’t glance up as Kendra returned, but he didn’t have to. She sat down beside him and, without speaking, pulled his bloody hands onto her lap. She had a damp washcloth in her own newly clean ones, and she set to work gingerly sponging away the mess. The cuts were tiny and had stopped bleeding already, but she was still painstakingly careful as she went. Lyor watched her every move, mesmerised by the way she handled him so tenderly, like almost nobody had before. He wondered how he could have been so stupid.

“You were right,” he said, finally looking up at her. “You were both right.”

He had pushed Seth into this- and for what? Because he thought he knew what was best for him? How could he, if he had caused this? This was worse than passing on ever could be. This was death; magnified.

“Ssh,” Kendra hushed, running her hand down the back of his head. She tousled a few locks of his hair soothingly before her grip turned into something desperate, and, with a great heaving sigh, she lay her head down to rest on his shoulder. Lyor stayed frozen, unsure of how to proceed after this development. He was even more lost when he felt telltale drops of moisture soaking into his shirt and he realised that Kendra was crying.

The act of comfort was a mystery to him, especially when he felt so shattered himself, but still Lyor tentatively lifted an arm up, ghosting over her before determinedly settling it around her shoulder. He experimentally tangled his fingers in her thick hair, almost cradling her skull, and Kendra responded by burying her face in the crook of his neck, still shaking with silent tears. He shifted to just barely brush a kiss over the crown of her head.

The two of them stayed like that for hours, long after Kendra’s tears had dried up and the tangerine hue of early evening in the sky had faded to a deep, velvety dark. Eventually, Kendra’s sniffles had petered out into the even sighs of sleep, and he had let her doze on his shoulder for an hour or so before carefully easing her back onto the couch, tucking a pillow under her head and draping his jacket around her shoulders in the way he figured he was supposed to.

He didn’t sleep. It was a frustrating irony- ages ago, before his world had been tipped upside down, sleep had been the only relief in Lyor’s hectic life. Then, after Taurasi, being awake was his only escape. Now, though, it seemed there was no winning; his nightmares had infiltrated everywhere. But he didn’t have a desire to do much else either, so Lyor simply sat there with his eyes closed, trying to figure out what the hell it was he was supposed to do now.

He needed an action plan, but none were springing to mind. This was unknown territory, and he was walking blind.

“Lyor...”

Without even opening his eyes, Lyor recognised Seth’s voice instantly. As sick dread pooled in his stomach, Lyor scrabbled at the fabric of his trousers- an instinctive gesture of anxiety- and waited for the cycle to begin again. At least this time he wouldn’t have to see it.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said, voice quaking, and- no, that wasn’t right. He wasn’t following the script. Lyor cracked one eye open a sliver, and then the other as the ghost’s figure, standing a foot from the couch, swam into focus. He was still as bloody and broken as he had been before, but his eyes were sharp as ever, wide and white in the dim room as he fixed his gaze straight on Lyor- seeing him, the real him.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Lyor stood. And then he stayed like that, frozen in place, arms locked rigidly at his sides. This wasn’t the Seth from before, the Seth from Taurasi. This was his Seth; and yet, he couldn’t cross the three steps between them. Not when he still looked...like that.

Lyor’s mouth opened his mouth, snapped it shut, then let it fall open again as he tried to unstick his words from his throat. There were so many things he wanted to say, even more that he knew he needed Seth to hear; but in that moment, all Lyor could think about was that morning in the graveyard- what seemed like a lifetime ago- with Seth’s arms around him as Lyor had told him not to disappear again.

“You said you wouldn’t leave,” was what he ended up saying, shocking even himself with the raw, childlike hurt in his voice.

“I’m sorry,” Seth said again, and he sounded destroyed. His lips quivered. He looked, Lyor realised, utterly terrified, and suddenly Lyor didn’t care about their fight, or him leaving, or the way he still looked like something coughed up from his worst nightmare. The only thing Lyor cared about was the fact that Seth was there, right in front of him.

It took him half a second to close the gap between them, and then Lyor was reaching, bringing a hand up to Seth’s ravaged face and willing himself not to tremble. “I’m sorry,” he finally got out. “For everything, I-“ He brushed a knuckle over freezing, almost-damp skin, and Seth barely suppressed a flinch.

Lyor dropped his hand. “Damnit, Seth,” he breathed out. “What the hell did you do?”

“I tried to break it,” Seth whispered, gesturing feebly between them. “I tried- I tried, but it-” He just shook his head mournfully, squeezing his eyes shut.

“...Lyor?” a groggy voice mumbled, and he heard Kendra sit up behind him. She didn’t exclaim at the sight of the ghost, and Lyor realised that she couldn’t see him. Thinking about it, it occurred to him that he hadn’t felt that gut-punch of exhaustion the way he had when Seth first returned. For now, it seemed, Seth seemed to have gotten things back under control.

“It’s Seth,” he called back in explanation. He didn’t turn around, keeping his eyes trained on Seth.

There was a tense pause. “Is he-?”

“He’s...he’s him,” Lyor said. He couldn’t say that Seth was okay. Seth was nowhere near okay. He shuffled closer still, til they were nose to nose. Seth still had his eyes squeezed shut.

“Let me help you,” he murmured, fishing for the connection that still fluttered feebly between them. “Let me...”

He trailed off as Seth almost slumped forward, wearily resting his forehead against Lyor’s shoulder. He didn’t have to say anything- Lyor already knew that the help he was offering wouldn’t work. If Seth wouldn’t take his strength before, there was no way he would now, not when he’d done this to himself to avoid it. They were long past the point of sharing energy.

There was only one way Lyor could help Seth now.


	21. Scars

Lyor’s eyes were burning, and he blinked rapidly as the words on his computer screen swam wonkily in front of him. This was his third day home- the White House could wait; Seth was his priority right now- and he’d spent the last five hours doing non-stop research. He had scoured the Internet, trawling through endless pages of hippie blogs promising to help “align the energy of a household” that made him despair for the collective intelligence of humanity, desperately hoping for something he could actually use. The next stop was the library, and he’d returned home with a stack of books that looked like they hadn’t been touched in a millennia.

With all of that, one thing was becoming clear: getting a ghost to pass over was harder than he thought.

So far, nothing had been helpful. There had been plenty on exorcisms- but Seth wasn’t possessing anyone. There was even more on helping wayward spirits to move on from the mistakes they’d made in life, but that advice was as vague as it was prolific. Lyor had returned to the internet in a fit of frustration, trying to force his way through some obscure occult webpage eleven pages deep into Google.

_....the spirit cannot exist on this plane without an anchor; a tether uniformly centred around a strong emotional....._

The rest of the words slid away into a blur, and Lyor tossed his laptop to the side with a sigh of disgust. It was no use. Hopefully the others will have dug up something more useful. Kendra and Aaron and, surprisingly, Tricia had all volunteered to help with getting Seth to successfully move on, and they were all coming over later that evening as soon as they could beg off work to pool their resources.

Nothing could bring people together, Lyor thought wryly, like helping a mutual friend find his way to death.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lyor caught a flickering disturbance, and he turned to see Seth appear on the edge of the couch. The ghost had been intermittently flickering in and out of existence since that horrific day in the Oval Office, as if his battery kept running out. His botched attempt to sever his connection to the world had left some deep-reaching scars. Sometimes, he would appear looking like he’d just died, sometimes he’d seem normal- but usually he would be stuck somewhere in between.

Lyor smiled. Today, Seth was actually looking like himself.

“Afternoon,” he greeted. “Your face looks...normal.”

Seth smiled dimly. “Thanks. Yours looks like dog shit.”

“You’re a regular Oscar Wilde, you know that?” Lyor said, lips twitching at the profanity. Seth could usually come up with searing retorts during their verbal sparring- part of why arguing with him had always been such a delight- and that insult was dismal in comparison. It only went to show just how much of Seth was slipping away. After three days, Lyor was getting used to it, but it was still disheartening.

Seth said nothing in reply, just shuffled closer as he wrapped his arms around his drawn up knees. He always got clingy after his disappearing periods. Lyor didn’t mind. He’d asked Seth, the first time he’d come back looking close to normal, where he went. Seth had shuddered, turning in on himself.

“The memories,” he’d said falteringly. “I get stuck in a loop. Just my death, over and over.”

It explained why Seth had been acting the way he had in the Oval Office. It also explained his need for closeness. Lyor inched towards him.

Lyor gave himself ten minutes of respite before pulling the laptop back open again. This time he read aloud- maybe Seth would be able to get something from it that he was missing. He read, Seth huddled, and they traded comments and musings and frustrated curses. They got through a slew of websites and one and a half dusty tomes before a knock sounded at the door.

“Come in,” Lyor said bluntly as he opened it up to be greeted by the sight of Kendra, Aaron, and Tricia clustered on his doorstep. They trailed in obediently like ducklings. His PA looked distinctly out of her element visiting her boss at home with her far senior colleagues, and she was orbiting sheepishly around Kendra.

“What did Schuler think about you all leaving early?” Lyor asked curiously- he couldn’t imagine the Chief of Staff would be happy, regardless of the fact that they would have stayed if they were truly needed.

“He said we should be remembering our priorities,” Aaron said darkly. “And that we shouldn’t be letting you drag us down with you.” The contempt dripping from his tone managed to brighten Lyor’s mood a fraction. He chuckled under his breath as he turned back to Seth, who was only just then looking up in a worryingly delayed response.

At the sight of his friends, Seth managed a little smile and a flimsy wave. He still didn’t look completely all there, though.

“Seth says hi,” Lyor said as he closed the door. The others mumbled an assortment of greetings. Lyor eyed his guests tersely as they drifted around his living room. He was painfully unused to having this many people invading his space, and he wasn’t a fan. Aaron, too, looked like he didn’t quite know where to stand. In fact, the only one of them who seemed relaxed was Kendra, even though she’d only been to his apartment twice before.

The woman in question gave a polite cough, snapping them out of this awkward prelude. “So, should we...?” she prompted, gesturing to the couch and dining room chairs, and everyone sat down dutifully. Lyor dropped down guardedly beside Seth on the couch, with Kendra squeezed in beside him, and Aaron and Tricia dragged over a couple of chairs so they were all sat in a semicircle.

Once again, Kendra cut to the chase. “I have done research,” she announced, holding up a binder stuffed full of what looked like printouts and scanned pages. Lyor made a noise of approval. “And I’ve talked to my priest.”

At that, Lyor wrinkled his nose, and Kendra tutted. “Hey, don’t make that face,” she scolded. “We’re exploring every possibility, right?”

She had a point, but Lyor wasn’t going to admit that. Instead, he gestured for the wieldy binder, which she handed over readily. He began combing through the pages. A lot of it came from the same sources he’d found, but there was some new material he’d have to study.

“You’ll be happy to know, Lyor,” Kendra said dryly, “that Father Kasey wasn’t much help. He said that his understanding of ghosts was that it was a form of Purgatory- which you have suggested. But it’s for the purposes of atonement for some sort of sin, which....” she gave the space beside Lyor a sidewards glance. “...I don’t think is applicable here.”

Seth, who was reading over Lyor’s shoulder, didn’t respond, but Lyor nodded on his behalf. He left the binder open on his knee for Seth to peruse as he turned to Aaron. “What about you?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow. “I’m sure your family has some age old superstitions about the spirit world.”

Aaron gave him a hard look. “You really wanna go there, man?”

...Insinuating that particular stereotype hadn’t actually been his intention at all, and Lyor scrambled to recover from his gaff. “Oh, I’m not talking about your cultural background. I’m just saying that having some nutjob aunt who claimed she could wish the spirits away by burning some herbs would explain a lot about your personality.”

Not his most cutting barb, but Lyor was only being kept conscious through coffee and spite at this point, so he figured being off his game was fair.

“Are you really the best person to be making fun of mediums?” Tricia piped up, and Lyor levelled her with a stony stare. “Sorry,” she muttered, but she relaxed at the sliver of a grin Aaron sent her.

Lyor ignored them, utterly uninterested in their little bonding moment. “Most of what I found talked about helping the spirit find their inner peace,” he said, jabbing a finger at one book extract of Kendra’s that said just that. “But Seth doesn’t seem to know how to do that. And,” he added with a little sneer, “we can’t take him to a therapist, so...”

At the word ‘therapist,’ Aaron gave him a pointed glance. Lyor disregarded that as well.

Kendra was nodding along seriously. “I found that too,” she said. “We’re supposed to help him complete any unfinished business.”

They all turned to Seth was- or where they thought Seth was; they were off by a centimetre- in unison. Seth shrugged moodily, fixated on his own hands.

“I’ve already seen my parents,” he mumbled. “There’s nothing else I need to do.”

Seeing one’s parents a final time seemed a depressingly short list of aspirations, but Lyor shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time to question Seth’s life choices. He shook his head at the others, and an air of disappointment seemed to leak into the atmosphere. That seemed to have been everybody’s central idea, and now they were at a loss.

“Okay then,” Aaron sighed, picking up a heaping pile of texts from Lyor’s coffee table. “Time to hit the books.” The others all did the same, and soon they all had their noses buried in dusty pages like some occult book club. Every so often, someone would toss an idea out, but they all fell flat.

Kendra groaned into the coffee she had made- they’d been at this for hours and she had demanded fuel. “Okay- I know this is old ground, but just going back to unfinished business for a moment...” she circled a phrase on her page with her finger. “It says here that ghosts often linger if they died too young and they feel like they’ve been robbed of their life. So, what if the unfinished business isn’t here? Maybe you need to go back to where you died-“

At the mere mention of Taurasi, Lyor’s insides recoiled violently, and he saw Seth flinch. The ragged connection sang suddenly, lighting up like a switchboard, and Lyor shuddered at the feeling of icicles being punched through his chest as a stream of energy leapt from him. Aaron’s empty cup, which he’d set down seconds ago, suddenly rocketed off the table and spun across the floor- how it didn’t smash to pieces was a matter of miracles.

Despite the sudden exhaustion heaped upon him, Lyor couldn’t help but be intrigued. He hadn’t seen telekinesis from Seth in a long time. He turned curiously to the ghost, who had curled up on his side, hugging himself into the corner of the couch.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into his arm. “Accident.”

The others were all blinking owlishly at them. Lyor shrugged as nonplussed as he could. “That’s a no.”

“Yeah,” Aaron deadpanned. “We got that.” He drummed fingers against his knee as Lyor went to retrieve the mug. “It might be a stretch,” he said, “but there is some folklore that says you’re supposed to burn the body of a person who’s haunting you. It severs their connection to this world.”

Lyor set the mug back down on the table with a hefty clang. “Seth was cremated.”

Aaron scratched his head. Tricia, who looked like she was trying to hide behind her oversized mug of coffee, tilted her head, lips pursed in thought.

“Well, maybe there’s something else?” She squirmed a little as all eyes landed on her, but she continued on confidently. “Not his body, but something that was with him when he died, maybe. His clothes would have been incinerated by now, but...”

Oh.

Lyor stood without a word, leaving the others as he disappeared into his bedroom. This wasn’t something he wanted to admit to the others- he’d tried to forget about it himself, really- but Tricia’s words had pinged something in his brain, and he had a sinking feeling that it related to this. He pulled open his bottom dresser drawer, felt around for what he was looking for, and then returned to the living room. The others were all peering quizzically up at him, so in answer, Lyor tossed his prize down on the coffee table.

They stared, open mouthed, at Seth’s White House ID.

Seth slowly straightened as Lyor dropped down heavily beside him. There was a flurry of emotions on his face. “You kept it?” he asked hesitantly. “Why?”

Lyor didn’t answer, because he really didn’t know why either. There had been no rhyme or reason to it; no purpose. But now, just maybe, they might have found one.

“It’s the only part of him left,” Lyor said quietly.

Kendra exhaled slowly, eyes still riveted on Seth’s plastic image. “I’d say if it’s going to be anything....”

Tricia finished her line of thought. “...It would be that.”

Finally, a viable solution. Lyor waited for the bubble of triumph that usually came with solving a particularly trying riddle. It didn’t come. The others all turned sombrely to face him, awaiting direction.

Aaron cleared his throat, fingers flexing unsurely. He looked more reluctant than Lyor had ever seen him. “So...Do we...?”

There was a bottle of lighter fluid in Lyor’s utility closet- left behind by the previous tenants and forgettable enough that he hadn’t gotten rid of it yet. There was the tiny square foot ‘garden’ at the back of the property, which had just enough space to hold the bins....and a metal trashcan holding a burning slip of plastic. Everything was ready to go. But this wasn’t Lyor’s choice.

He turned to Seth. At some point, without Lyor noticing, the ghost had fallen into a blank sort of trance. It was hard for him to stay in the present, as transient as he’d become over the last few days. Lyor would often find him like this, lost somewhere in his mind. It reminded Lyor, rather uncomfortably, of his mother.

“No. Not yet,” Lyor said. He would do this when Seth gave the word, and not a moment sooner.

A dark trickle of blood had started spreading across the crisp pink of Seth’s shirt, a fragment of whatever memory he was caught in. Lyor’s stomach churned.

The others seemed to take that as their cue to leave, and they began to clean up after themselves. Lyor kept his eyes fixed on Seth, only managing to pull himself away to usher the others out the door. Kendra gave his hand a squeeze, and Tricia offered a forcefully bright smile. Aaron was the last to go, lingering in the doorway. He was staring at the couch, as if he would be able to make out Seth’s form if he strained hard enough.

“You’ll tell us,” Aaron finally said forcefully, “when you decide to do it. We should be here.”

Lyor nodded. Aaron hesitated a second longer before disappearing out the door. Lyor shut it with a sigh of relief, swaying with barely contained exhaustion. He tripped his way back to the couch and barely managed to brush the scattered books away before collapsing onto it. Seth was still there- static but present- as Lyor’s eyes slipped closed, and he fell into the soundest sleep he’d had in ages.

Amazingly, Seth was still there when Lyor woke up the next morning, locked in the same position as before. Lyor stared at him for a long moment, waiting for some flicker of recognition, of life- but it didn’t come.

Alright, no use staring wistfully at him all day. Lyor stood up and left the room without a backwards glance, eager to ease out the cramps in his back with a nice hot shower. Hopefully by the time he got out, Seth will have snapped out of it. He showered and got dressed. As he left the bathroom, towel-drying his hair, Lyor let his mind drift back to politics; something to relax him. Almost without thinking about it, he began speaking his musings aloud, the way he used to when Seth could actually respond. Maybe, in a moment or two, he would. Maybe.

“...If the President can get this bill through, the election’ll be a slam dunk,” Lyor rambled, wandering back through to the living room. “Assuming, of course, that another thousand things don’t go wrong- Oh.”

Seth had moved. Seth was moving. Seth was writhing on the floor, hands reaching out fruitlessly as he tipped his head back to peer up at Lyor.

“...Help...” he gasped.

A shudder rolled through his entire body. Every few seconds he would give a violent jerk, almost being dragged along the floor by some invisible force, every motion accompanied by an injury blooming across his skin. There were bruises beginning to litter his face, blood dripping from his mouth, and Lyor watched in horror as a bloody gash tore across his gut in real time. Seth screamed in agony.

This time, Lyor realised, Seth wasn’t stuck in his death. He was stuck in the wave.

“What do you want me to do?” Lyor demanded. Seth opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a high pitched whine, like a dog. Still bucking from the force of being dragged by a remembered wave of water, Seth painstakingly turned his head to look at the coffee table. Lyor followed his line of sight, and his gaze landed on the White House ID, still there from the previous night.

He took a minute step back. “No. No. Not now. Not yet.” He knew he sounded pathetic, the way he was begging, but it suddenly hit him that he wasn’t ready. Agreeing to it, researching ways how- that had been one thing. But actually doing the deed and- and killing Seth- this couldn’t be the right moment, surely.

Seth seemed to barely be listening. His hands were clawing at his throat, mouth lolling and gaping for air. His body skidded across the floor, scuttling like some giant, limping spider. His left arm arched out violently across the floor, and then just as quickly fell limply back at his side, twisted grotesquely out of shape- Seth’s howl drowning out the telltale pop of breaking bone. He flopped around a few more seconds- almost flinging himself into the wall- all the while with Lyor watching in mute horror. Suddenly, Seth seized up, lifting his torso into a near sitting position as his twitching limbs fell limp. He froze, and for a few seconds Lyor thought it was over. They locked gazes, waited, waited-

Seth’s body slammed back down against the floor, his face striking the hardwood with a sickening crack. He let out a gurgling shriek, and as he dragged himself up again, Lyor saw the way one side of his face had caved in; a dark, sagging dent.

“Please,” Seth choked out. He flipped onto his back. His voice was garbled now, nearly unintelligible through the pain. “Please, Lyor. Oh- H-hurts- so much. Help...”

Lyor was frozen. “Seth-“

“Can’t...not anymore!” Seth shrieked in half-formed sentences. It was like he wasn’t even speaking to Lyor anymore- his head was tilted up to the ceiling as he directed his plea to the universe, to God, to anyone who would listen. “God, god....stop, please!” he cried out again, a low, drawn out moan. “Please! I don’t wanna hurt anymore!”

That was the final straw. Lyor sprang into action, leaping over the twitching heap that was Seth’s body and snatching up the ID. Next, he sprinted to the utility closet, sweeping bottles of Windex and packages of paper towers away with his arm before he found the lighter fluid and a box of matches. He tried not to think about what he was doing, about what it would mean when it was over- Lyor just trained his mind on what he needed next.

A bin, yes- something to hold it. Lyor strode through to the kitchen and clumsily set down his bundle of items before overturning the metal bin under the counter, not caring that rubbish spilled out and amassed, ankle deep, on the floor. Out of sight, Seth was still moaning fitfully.

Lyor set the bin down in the middle of the living room with a clang, tossing the ID inside, following it with a liberal few squirts of lighter fluid and a few tissues to help it light. He should really be doing this outside, the way he’d planned- burning plastic inside an enclosed space carried too many health hazards to count- but he could stress about that later. He wasn’t about to leave Seth now. Flinging open a few windows would have to do. That task complete, Lyor picked up the box of matches with frighteningly steady hands.

He hadn’t pictured it going like this. He hadn’t pictured it at all, actually- the inevitable ending of this mission to help Seth being something he’d stubbornly pushed out of his mind in order to actually be useful. But he could have assumed it would have involved the others- oh, Aaron was going to be furious with him- and maybe some last words. There was no getting Seth’s death right, but it should have been better than this. Lyor’s fingers felt like lead. Every part of him was desperate not to do this, but Seth was screaming, and Lyor couldn’t- he couldn’t-

He lit the match and watched it fall.

Plastic didn’t burn fast. It was an agonising process, waiting for the corner of the plastic card to catch. Seth was still wailing- the way ghosts were supposed to- and Lyor kept fitfully switching glances between him and the fire. Would it be quick, when it finally happened? Or would it be as slow as the spread of fire across the plastic? Would Seth feel as though he was being set alight as well? But that couldn’t hurt much more than what he was already feeling.

The fire took hold, and as the tissues sizzled to a crisp the tongues of flame licked hungrily across the ID’s surface, slowly engulfing Seth’s tiny image. The plastic began to warp and bubble, and an acrid smell wafted through the air as ugly black smoke streamed from the mouth of the bin. Lyor pulled his shirt up to cover his mouth and nostrils as the smoke alarm went off with a shriek. It wasn’t loud enough to mask Seth’s screams.

Screams that hadn’t changed, Lyor noted worriedly. He’d expected them to peter out as the effects of burning took hold, or maybe even become worse- but the cadence hadn’t changed a note. He was still flailing pitifully, half-trapped in a memory. Nothing was happening.

“I-It’s not working,” Lyor stammered out, and Seth let out a sob. His fingers scrabbled against the floorboards.

“Try something....Anything......”

Lyor squirted some more lighter fluid into the mix, but to no avail. The flames just devoured the ID quicker, leaving behind a bubbling pile of twisted, blackened plastic. The flames still licked around the edges, but there was nothing left for them to do- it was completely destroyed.

The smoke alarm was still blaring, but Lyor could barely hear it. He numbly filled up a glass of water in the kitchen and brought it back to dump over the mess in the bin. The last of the flames hissed out to nothing. Robotically, he picked up the bin and dumped it outside with disgust. The remnants of smoke had wafted out the open windows by the time he returned, and the smoke alarm shut off with a sigh.

With the noise gone, Lyor noticed that the screams had died down as well. He looked around for Seth, who wasn’t where he’d left him. The man had dragged himself to the wall, where he was curled into a fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest. From what little Lyor could see of him, what with the way he was wrapped around himself, the injuries had disappeared. The memory had ended, then. But not the terror.

Lyor uncertainly crept closer, and he noticed that Seth was still jerking irregularly, face crumpled, and Lyor realised that this was supposed to be crying. Sobs without tears.

Lyor dropped to his knees, hands fluttering hopelessly over Seth’s form. Seth pulled away with a wordless whimper, curling even tighter into himself as he continued to quake.

“I’m sorry,” Lyor managed to get out. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what to do.”

That had been their only viable plan, and it had failed. Seth was still here. Deep inside, Lyor felt a traitorous flicker of relief, and he hated himself for it. All he could do was sit there, so he did; trying unsuccessfully to soothe Seth’s sobs until the ghost simply blinked out of existence, and Lyor let his head fall back against the wall with a thump. _What now?_

Listlessly, he dug into his pocket for his phone, opening up contacts and selecting Kendra. _It didn’t work,_ was all he sent her before dragging himself up and setting to work tidying his apartment. He needed to do something with his hands, something to stop him feeling completely useless. He re-bagged the trash festering on his kitchen floor, straightened the piles of worthless library books, and steadfastly ignored the way his phone had started buzzing explosively.

He finished cleaning, but then hollowly decided that his bookshelf needed reorganising. It was ordered by subject matter at the moment, but maybe he could try going alphabetically, or by author name, or in order from least to most interesting, or least to most linguistic prowess. _Had to keep those hands busy. Had to avoid thinking._ Lyor redid his bookshelf, them did the same for his pantry, and for his wardrobe, and scrubbed down his bathroom, and then went back to reorganise his bookshelf two, three, four more times until he looked at the time and realised it had been close to eight hours.

At that startling realisation, all momentum dropped from him like a stone. Lyor stilled, vacant, in his living room. In all the long, arduous months that had passed- from the first three after Seth’s death when he had been like a ghost himself in the White House, to Seth’s first horrifying appearance, and even to the week that Seth had disappeared and beyond- Lyor had never felt lonelier than he did in that one singular moment.

It was a loneliness that demanded to be forgotten, even for a few short hours, so Lyor abandoned the bookshelf in favour of his bedroom. It was well into the evening by then, silvery moonlight dusting the curtains, and Lyor disinterestedly studied the way shadows fell across the room as he sat on his cold, empty bed. For the second night in a row, he didn’t bother changing out of his clothes. Nor did he even lie down- the act of sitting in that room, watching the flickering of the shadows on the wall, had frozen the life out of Lyor. He just sat there; watching, waiting for some unimaginable _something_ that could explain to him what he could possibly do now.

One shadow, longer and darker than the others, seemed to shift, and Lyor realised that it wasn’t a shadow at all, but Seth. The ghost seemed to melt out of the gloom, head bowed and hands hanging unsurely by his sides. The moonlight cast an unearthly glow over the whole of him, highlighting the tentative way that he would flick his eyes to Lyor and then back to the floor. He was looking normal again.

“....Can I stay?” Seth asked, voice small. It had been a long time since Lyor had inconspicuously lifted the strict ban on his bedroom, and longer still since he had shouted Seth out that first morning, but it was still a boundary that Seth had never seemed to want to cross. Until now.

Lyor couldn’t even find it in himself to be happy that Seth was back, the now resigned expectation for him disappearing again weighing heavily on his mind. But he was here now, so in answer, Lyor shifted his weight to the far side of the bed, leaving a stretch of it open. Seth accepted the invitation without hesitation, crawling onto the mattress next to him and settling down so that their shoulders were brushing. Lyor looked him over. Up close, he could see that Seth wasn’t looking as healthy as he’d first thought. There was no blood, but a shadow still rippled across his left cheek; a smudge that, if looked at just the right way, could be broken bone.

They were both silent for a long time; Seth gazing at his hands, Lyor gazing at Seth. He seemed more withdrawn, more turned in on himself than Lyor had ever imagined he could be. Lyor had to wonder how many times a man could relive his own death before that was all he became.

“You’re getting weaker,” he muttered. “I don’t know how much longer we have-“ Seth tensed, and Lyor fell silent. Pointing out the obvious- that they might flail hopelessly around for an answer until the day Seth finally disappeared completely into the Bermuda Triangle of memories that kept sucking him under- wasn’t going to do anything. Seth already knew all of that. So instead, he said: “We’ll keep looking, Seth.” It wasn’t much better, but promising anything else would be lying.

“I’m scared,” Seth admitted, and his voice only shook a little. “I’m more scared now than I was the first time around. Isn’t that weird?”

Seth was peering at him, and this time it was Lyor’s turn to look away. “Not really.”

He remembered the day a dirty bomb had been reported in Washington. He’d stood with Seth in his office, debating to himself the merits of being incinerated versus a slow death by microbes. Now Lyor knew it wasn’t even a question. There was nothing worse than having to watch death loom closer and closer, like Seth was.

“I just wish I....” Seth started, and then trailed off, trying to find his words. He was silent for so long that Lyor turned back to him, thinking he had given up on talking altogether, but then Seth started up again. “I just wish this wasn’t what I have to leave behind. This isn’t where I want to put the full stop in my life. I thought you- I thought this was supposed to be my second chance, but it’s just...” he shook his head, pressing a fist against his lips thoughtfully. “I don’t know. I just can’t stop thinking about everything, going over and over it in my head. Not even just the things I didn’t do- the things I _did_ do.” He chuckled ruefully. “You never realise things are going to be your last until they are. I don’t reckon I got a lot right.”

Seth rested his chin on his shoulder, locking eyes with Lyor. He looked desperate, in a quiet, subdued sort of way. “If you died now,” he asked plaintively, “would you be happy?”

Lyor was almost relieved by the readiness of his answer. “No,” he said immediately. Maybe he’d thought it would have been better if he’d died in Taurasi, but it had never been what he’d wanted. His grand plan of living to be 130 remained intact. “No, I’m not done living yet.”

Seth seemed pleased by that, still staring at him in that odd, searching way. “That’s good,” he murmured. “That’s good, that’s-” Seth’s eyes were wide, and all of a sudden he surged toward and was kissing him.

It wasn’t romantic at all; open mouthed and desperate as Seth clumsily cupped his cheek with a frigid hand. It barely even felt like a kiss- more of a half-forgotten memory of one. Lyor didn’t kiss back, or jerk away- he just sat there woodenly, waiting for Seth to pull back himself. This, he knew, wasn’t about him. It was about Seth getting to feel alive one last time.

Seth withdrew, guiltily pressing his knuckles against his lips. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled from behind them. “I-I don’t know what I’m doing...”

“It’s fine.”

Seth blinked up at him through his eyelashes, trying to ascertain if Lyor was telling the truth. Lyor was ready with his face open and earnest, and Seth seemed reassured. He rocked sideways experimentally so their shoulders pressed firmly together, heads close enough that their foreheads brushed. Lyor still didn’t protest, and Seth sighed as he dropped his head to rest on Lyor’s shoulder, and then slid further down to nestle against his chest.

The kiss hadn’t been for Lyor. But maybe this was.

“I think I could’ve loved you,” Seth whispered, words almost too quiet to hear as he curled his fingers into the fabric of Lyor’s shirt. Lyor knew what he meant- if he hadn’t died. If everything had gone right.

Lyor didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about an alternate universe where Seth had been smarter and stayed on that rooftop. Where, maybe, Lyor would have found him while searching, and Seth would have tried to hug him- and Lyor would have refused because he’d have no idea just how close he came to losing him. A universe where they flew home together, with Lyor’s eyes on Seth as he slept. Maybe Trey and Kendra would have stayed together- hell, maybe they’d have gotten married eventually. And Lyor would have been left with a friend, one who would have grown to appreciate his quirks, one who would turn to him first, one who he wouldn’t want to leave his side. And then maybe, one night, while they were alone together, Seth would have turned to him with that tender little smile of his, and....

Lyor didn’t want to think about that.

He didn’t answer, just eased them down so they were lying flat on the bed, facing each other. Seth’s head was still tucked against his chest, and Lyor rested his chin on top of it. One of his arms was caught underneath Seth’s shoulders, so he looped it around and dropped a hand to the back of Seth’s head, one thumb tracing out, with the barest of touches, the dip of Seth’s cheek. There was a whispered whimper at that as Lyor felt Seth burying himself in his shirt- the ghost was freezing, but he didn’t care, just pulled him closer still. Lyor closed his eyes and drifted immediately into an easy, dreamless sleep.

When Lyor woke, his hand was resting against his sun splattered pillow. Seth was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, burning the ID did not work. This isn’t Supernatural, y’all


	22. The Road Less Travelled

Lyor laid in bed for a long, long time that morning, listlessly contemplating the way the sunlight dappled the empty stretch of pillow beside him and wondering when Seth would return; and whether or not he’d be dying when he did. Lyor wondered how much time they had left- Seth seemed to be losing more and more of himself every time he came back, as if the water in his memory was stripping away more than just skin, but...essence as well. Soon enough there’d be nothing of Seth left but pain, unless they found a way for him to pass on.

And there was the clincher: Seth had an escape, they just had to find it first. But Lyor’s good options had been stripped from him. Either Seth stayed, suffering, and he got the privilege of experiencing guilt in a whole new flavour, or Seth left, free, and he would be alone. Again.

Seth had called him selfish. He wasn’t wrong, Lyor reasoned. Every path in his mind always seemed to lead back to his own agony. Lyor resented the mental paralysis that came along with it. He’d spent too long these past months ruled by emotions; the first cardinal sin of higher thinkers. Instead, he should be considering this as if it were a matter of politics. Because that’s what it was, really, when he got down to the bare bones of it: a game of loss and gain, with no real winners in the end.

He didn’t want to roll on his back and passively accept what was happening. There was always the strategy of pulling a filibuster on the opponent- or, in this case, fate- in order to delay the inevitable. But in this situation, stalling would only mean more pain for Seth, so that wasn’t even worth considering. So what did Lyor always do when he was backed into a corner by two evils? Find a third option.

Kendra’s words from the day before drifted, unprompted, into his head. “ _Hey, don’t make that face. We’re exploring every possibility, right?”_ She’d been talking about consulting with a priest.

Lyor felt himself making that face again. _You can’t be serious_ , he thought to himself, even as he stood, even as he pulled on his shoes, even as he googled directions to the nearest synagogue. _We’re really doing this?_

Yes, he really was. Desperate times called for desperate measures, no matter how seemingly irrational and vaguely embarrassing those measures may be.

It was lucky that the synagogue was open outside of services, so he could slip inside without anyone to disturb him. Lyor supposed he could have just prayed at home, but for the sake of his task, he may as well go the whole nine yards, right? Actually stepping inside the temple might help to work up the momentum- Lyor hadn’t prayed for a very long time. In fact- he did a rapid calculation in his head- he hadn’t even stepped foot in a synagogue for close to 22 years. The last time had been for his father’s funeral. He’d been sixteen years old and seething with it, indignantly disgusted on behalf of his aggressively secular dad, who would have hated every moment. Lyor hadn’t been a believer for years before, but that was the day he’d left Judaism at the door completely. He never attended a single other service, not even for the sake of his mother.

Stepping inside, though, the unshakeable familiarity of it all flooded back at once. Even the weight of the kippah as he slid it on didn’t feel as alien as he’d assumed it would. Most familiar, however, was the pressing boredom that settled down on him as he looked up at the Ark, the same as it had been since he was seven years old. To others, the Ark was a vessel for the most sacred and holy scrolls; the Torah. But to Lyor, it was just a trumped up cupboard.

This really wasn’t going to work. How was he supposed to ask things of a God he was fairly certain didn’t exist? But he was there already, and what other options did he have waiting for him?

All the pews were empty, but Lyor still slid into the one closest to the door. Even though the rabbi- the only other person in the building- seemed content to potter around up the front and leave him alone, Lyor still didn’t want to risk being overheard. He clasped his hands unsurely.

“Sh’ma Yisra'eil Adonai Eloheinu Adonai echad,” Lyor muttered out, unable to keep the tinge of irony from his voice. Despite his reluctance, it was a good place to start. Even after two decades, Lyor still remembered his prayers- there wasn’t a single Jewish boy in the world who couldn’t recite the Shema. It was carved into his psyche at this point. With that done though, Lyor didn’t quite know how to continue. He debated for a minute whether to speak out loud or not, but then quickly decided that it didn’t matter- he was going to feel like an idiot either way. But at least speaking aloud would actually make him feel like he was accomplishing something.

“Well, it’s been a while,” he got out through gritted teeth, already hating every second of this. “I want it on the record that I’m still ninety-nine percent sure that this a worldwide conspiracy designed to numb the minds of the masses into unquestioningly following their governments and not committing mass-suicide, and that organised religion as a whole is the glorified bank robber of society,” Lyor continued in what he thought was a pretty good start. “But I came anyway, because....”

He sighed, the sound skittering across the wood of the pew. “I suppose most people ask for guidance, don’t they? For all their petty, inconsequential quibbles- they have so much faith that you’ll do something show them the right way. I don’t need guidance. I know what the right thing to do is, objectively. I’ve just never wanted to do the right thing less than I do now.”

Lyor gave his head a hard shake, feeling his fingers curl around one another to near numbness. Letting Seth go, at the cost of stabbing himself in the gut, or near enough to it; the impossible choice. What a fucking joke.

“I shouldn’t have to be making this call,” Lyor growled finally. “Not if you really do exist. I thought you believed in justice? In mercy? How is any of this merciful?”

Lyor was no arbiter on morality; he doubted he deserved much mercy. He didn’t even know if Seth deserved to go to a Heaven. But he couldn’t imagine what either of them could have done to deserve this.

“I don’t want guidance, I want an explanation. I want to know what sort of lesson we’re supposed to be gaining from this, if that’s the game you’re playing here. And I want- I _need_ you to fix this.”

Lyor tipped his head back, glowering up at the soaring ceiling. Across the room, the menorah seemed to wink mockingly. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to end,” he said. “This decision- it isn’t mine to make. If anybody is even listening to me, then _you_ did this. So _you_ fix it. Make this better.”

This was it; his last option, his final hope. Nothing less than divine intervention could stop the inevitable here- either Seth was going to pass on or fade away into some never ending nightmare of his final moments. And either way, Lyor was going to end up with nothing but emptiness, yet again.

Lyor waited a moment, then another, and another. He wasn’t really sure what he was expecting- a sign from the heavens was too much to ask, surely- but after going through all of this, Lyor had hoped that he’d at least get _something_. He unclenched his shoulders, which he hadn’t realised were so tense, and lowered his eyes back from the ceiling to the vast room before him.

The menorah, he realised wryly, wasn’t mocking him at all. It was just the light glinting off the dulled bronze. It was still just a candelabrum, The Ark was still just a cupboard. And Lyor was still just talking to himself. There was nothing for him here. He and Seth, they were well and truly on their own.

Lyor- Lyor was alone.

Lyor stood abruptly, casting off his kippah into the basket by the door as he left. He could feel the rabbi’s eyes following him as he stalked out the door, but Lyor didn’t look back once. This whole exercise had been utterly pointless, but he couldn’t even muster enough spark to feel embarrassed. He was grateful- he was sick of that maelstrom of emotions engulfing him, always dragging him around. He wanted to feel numb. Maybe all of this would be easier if there was nothing inside.

What was he supposed to do now? There were stacks of books waiting for him at home, but the idea of doing any more research at the moment made Lyor feel sick. He felt detached; untethered. When this feeling used to grow in him, in those grey days after Taurasi, he had thrown himself into work. But Lyor wasn’t supposed to be at the White House, and he couldn’t go back to his empty apartment. So he wandered aimlessly, wondering distantly if this is what being a ghost felt like, and let the concrete streets lead his feet wherever they chose, until it occurred to him that he was boarding a train. _Well_ , he decided, _alright then._

This, boarding a train with no destination in mind, made Lyor feel seventeen again. After his father died, on the mornings when school was miles beneath him and his mother hadn’t gotten out of bed for the third day in a row, Lyor would buy a ticket for the first train on the schedule and let himself be taken far, far away, just to see where he’d end up. He hadn’t liked staying still for too long, in those days. He supposed he still didn’t. After a few stops that slid past his notice, Lyor heard a familiar station being announced and his head perked up. It seemed his brain must have still been working under the surface, he pondered as he hopped off the train and made the short walk to the familiar, boxy shape of Roseanne Nursing Home. It made sense- religion and his mother had always been inextricably linked in Lyor’s mind, but only one of them had ever brought him any real comfort.

Room 313 was still as drab and desaturated as Lyor remembered it, and his mother; just as absent. Her frail arms looked ghastly pale where they rested over her maroon throw; a pointed reminder to Lyor that this was the downward slump. Honestly, he was astonished- and slightly disheartened- that she had held out for this long. To him, her current life didn’t seem to be one worth clinging onto.

“Hey, ma,” he greeted dismally, dropping into his usual seat. His ma gave a feeble wave of greeting.

“Hullo there,” she smiled. “Is it time for my pills?”

“Not yet. In an hour.” No recognition, as usual. With a ferocious stab of longing, Lyor wished even more that Seth was there. His mother had seemed to take a shine to him- she hadn’t been _herself_ , exactly, but she’d definitely had more vitality in her when Seth was around. Perhaps the dead had a special way with the almost-dead.

But Lyor was resigned to this by now, so he didn’t bother searching for any glimmer of understanding as he started talking.

“You’ll never guess where I just was,” he said, smiling softly. “In a synagogue. Yeah, you’d be so proud, huh? Said the Shema and everything.”

“Oh, that’s lovely,” she gushed with polite, impersonal enthusiasm. “That’s just splendid. I go for Shabbat every week, you know?”

“Oh yes.” Lyor did know- he’d been dragged there right along with her. His mother had been so pious, ever since he could remember. As a child, he’d found it horrifically embarrassing- complete with scoffs he’d perfected from emulating his father- but now, in a clinical sort of way at least, Lyor could appreciate it for what it was. It was her way of making sense of the world, especially after...

Lyor thinned his lips. It seemed as though his father had been constantly lurking in the back of his thoughts that day. It was an ugly spectre, one that he wasn’t fond of having hang over him, but Lyor preferred to believe that he wasn’t afraid of his father anymore, so he grabbed that intruding thought by the throat and squeezed.

“Do you remember when pa died?” he asked, and shot his mother a sidelong glance. Her face betrayed nothing, so he continued almost on an impulse. All of a sudden, he yearned for a reaction- something to indicate that even a semblance of his mother was still there. “August the 20th. I came home from school, and he was in his office-“

“It was so hot,” his ma murmured suddenly, almost too soft to make out, and Lyor stopped abruptly. “It had been sweltering all week. After they took him away I opened all the windows, just to let some air in, but the breeze came through and blew all his papers everywhere. Lyor was so angry at me,” she sniffled. “He spent hours picking them up off the floor and putting them back in the right order.”

Lyor remembered that. He remembered that entire afternoon in stunning clarity, right down to the words on the pages he’d resorted. They were drafts for his father’s new book. It had been nearly finished.

There was a faint flicker of damp grief in his ma’s blue eyes; one heart-stopping moment of it. And then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone again, and she smiled vacuously. “Oh, but I don’t know anything about that,” she hummed. “My Arthur is coming to visit me later on. He’ll be here soon.”

“Right,” Lyor said softly. “Yeah.”

He shouldn’t have brought it up, no matter how successfully he’d triggered some sliver of consciousness. It was better not to dwell; it had been a dark moment in both their lives. It was, perhaps, the reason why it kept coming to mind for him now. In the few years following his father’s death, Lyor had felt sick with emotions he didn’t know how to process. Grief, yes, and white-hot rage- but also a relief that he wasn’t able to articulate for years after. Most of all, though, he’d felt the shooting panic of a boy realising that he was nowhere near as in control as he’d thought he was. And now, the world was spinning out from underneath him yet again, and absolutely nothing had changed.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing, ma.” Lyor admitted, staring fixedly at his clasped hands. “I thought this time I’d be able to handle everything, but now it’s even worse because-“ he clenched his jaw, and his mother made a small noise that he could almost imagine was encouragement.

“It’s my friend,” he said quietly. “He’s in so much pain, but I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t even know if I want to- if I’m strong enough. All I know is that no matter what happens, I lose. Every way this ends I end up with nothing,” he ended bitterly. “Ma, I just- I need-“

He cut himself off with a leaden shake of his head, dropping it into the hand coming up to massage the bridge of his nose. He stayed liked that, neck bowed, for a weighted few seconds of silence. Everything- _everything_ was falling apart, and Lyor had no goddamn way of stopping it. It was always the same. Then, almost soft enough to be imagined, Lyor registered his mother’s brittle fingers smoothing down his hair in long, clumsy strokes, the way she used to when he was little. It was an automatic gesture from her, he knew, but he couldn’t help but lean into it slightly, almost shuddering in relief.

“No need for that,” she scolded lightly as she patted his head. “A boy like you shouldn’t have all this weight on your shoulders. You have the rest of your life to be miserable like the rest of us.” She laughed that throaty, unapologetic laugh of hers as if she’d said something extraordinarily funny, and Lyor’s lips twitched.

“You remind me of my husband,” she continued kindly, and Lyor suppressed a grimace. “He was always so solemn, always thinking the world was so much darker than it was- he just had too much going on in his brain. I always told him: things seem so much simpler when you look at them with your heart instead of your head.”

Lyor could only imagine what his father’s response to that had been. He was ready to shake it off as well- but something stopped him. The fact that it would make him just like his father, maybe. That alone was enough to give him pause. So Lyor considered; what was his heart seeing?

Well, of course, his heart wasn’t seeing anything, since it was an internal organ rather than any sort of abstract oscillator of emotion. That was the sort of comment that would make Kendra laugh, Lyor thought warmly. She would probably-

Oh.

_Oh_.

He wouldn’t be left with nothing- not if he took the time to notice what had been right in front of him this whole time.

Lyor lifted his head, fixing his ma with a startled sort of smile. After a second, she mirrored it sunnily. She had, Lyor could tell, already forgotten what they’d been talking about, but it didn’t dim her air of tenderness.

Her hand slid from the crown of his head to his cheek, which she patted. “You’re a good boy,” she said sweetly. “Do you have my pills?”

Lyor gave her a quick peck on the cheek as he stood. “Bye ma,” he said breathlessly. Then, because he felt like he’d forgotten to say it a lot: “I love you.”

He had to restrain himself from sprinting to the train station. The ride to the White House somehow seemed to take even longer than usual. Lyor was sick of these intermissions- of being stuck in inaction. It felt as though that’s all he’d been doing that entire day- or maybe for a lot longer: just drifting around, waiting for the answers to find him. But now he knew exactly where he was headed; where he was always headed. Lyor suspected that if he was dropped in the plains of nowhere, spun around blindly, and pointed in a direction with no compass, he’d still always manage to find his way back to Kendra.

When Lyor reaches Kendra’s office, she had her chin in her cupped hand, looking pensive and perpetually tired. Lyor could make out the little ‘v’ of stress that always creased her brows when she was thinking too hard. How lucky he was there then, to take her mind off things. He knocked on the door, and her face instantly smoothed out as she saw him.

“Hey,” she smiled. “What are you doing back here?”

Lyor knew he must have looked wildly out of place in the jeans and henley he was sporting instead of his usual suit. He had been given time off to ‘sort things out” with Seth, and apparently nobody had expected to see hide nor hair of him in the building until that was over. At least Kendra looked happy to see him, like she always did.

“Are you busy?” Lyor asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Of course not,” Kendra replied promptly, dropping her pen on top of the paperwork that Lyor could see was blatantly only half finished. Not that he cared. Finally, finally, he was going to be able to articulate everything that had been muddying his mind the whole day. And this time, he knew, someone would be listening.

“Is Seth here?” Kendra asked, and Lyor shook his head, folding his arms tightly.

Usually by this point he would have taken possession of her lounge, or at least taken position in the centre of the room. But standing at the doorway gave him an ideal vantage point. He wanted to take in every part of this moment; categorise all the tiny details to run over in his mind later. Kendra stood, but merely leaned against her desk; expectant.

“I went to a synagogue today. I actually prayed,” he said, mostly because he wanted to see her reaction. She didn’t disappoint, blinking in a flutter of eyelashes as she tried to disguise the surprised delight warming her features.

“Wow. That’s-“

“Desperate? A waste of time? A betrayal of all my principles?” Lyor chuckled ruefully. “I know.”

Kendra grew a warm smile. “I was going to say brave. You were looking for help.”

Lyor shrugged. He hadn’t gotten any. No matter what glorious, undreamt of things could possibly occur in this room today, there would still be that, always that, looming over him. The promise of pain. Some things he couldn’t change.

He looked to the ground. “Burning the ID didn’t work.”

“I saw,” Kendra sighed. “What are you going to do now?”

Lyor laughed humourlessly. “I have...absolutely no idea. But I have to figure it out, otherwise Seth is going to end up in....” He shook his head. “Literal eternal torment. No God required.”

“It’s his memories, right?” Kendra asked hesitantly. “Of...of dying. That’s what he get’s trapped in?”

“Yeah, just...” Lyor made a circling motion with his hand. “Over and over. And he feels it. He _feels_ it, Kendra.”

“Jesus,” she muttered. Then, after a moment. “Lyor, how are you doing?”

Lyor felt wildly caught off guard. Though he really should have seen this coming, what with the gentle downward curve of her lips that he had been busy contemplating. She must have been studying him too.

“I’m-“ he got out uncertainly, unused to openly saying how he was feeling; even more of a stranger to actually wanting to. Kendra was his exception for a lot of things, it seemed. “I don’t know. Exhausted is a word for it, I suppose- of everything. I think I’ve been wasting too much energy on my own emotions recently. I can worry about that later. I just need to...sort Seth first.”

He wasn’t sure what word to use. The first one that had sprung to mind was ‘kill.’ He could sense the displeasure of it written across his face.

“Mm,” she hummed, and then chuckled a bit. Lyor studied every subtle movement of it, transfixed as much as he was confused.

“What?” he asked bemusedly, and Kendra shook her head slowly.

“You are a very good person, Lyor Boone,” she said. “I think you sometimes don’t realise how true that is.”

_Good_. That wasn’t a word many people used for him. It wasn’t even one he would consider for himself. Brilliant, yes, and superior at what he did in his work- but good? That had to mean something coming from Kendra, though- she was the best person Lyor knew.

Seth would call him good as well, Lyor mused, and he drew in on himself again.

“Is this what it means to be a good person?” he asked; half a grin, half a grimace. “Because if so, I want no part in it.”

“Whether you want it or not isn’t going to stop you,” Kendra said simply. “That’s the whole point.”

Lyor digested that. This is what it all came down to, wasn’t it? He’d never wanted any of this. But what could he do? Lyor’s eyes closed- but only for a moment. He wanted them on her.

“Do you think it’s even possible to do the right thing and get what you want at the same time?”

“Well, I think that depends,” Kendra said. “What do you want, Lyor?”

This, Lyor thought. This: the perfect tilt of her neck as she considered him with those eyes, those _goddamn_ eyes. This: the curve of her spine as she leaned in towards him. This: the way that she called him good and sounded like she meant it. This: the way that he found himself believing her. This and this and this. The way the air between them vanished as he strode across the room. The way she rose up to meet him.

The way she-

Lyor’s hands itched to be everywhere at once, but he settled for her hair instead. He wondered ever so briefly what conditioner she used to get it so soft- but then his thoughts were drawn away, landing instead on the flutter of her eyelashes against his skin, the thrum of her pulse as he brushed her neck, the way she smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone- but then again, again and again, back to the feel of her lips against his. Because he was kissing Kendra. And Kendra was kissing back.

There was a stunning, scintillating moment when Lyor forgot about everything that was falling to pieces, locked only on that kiss and nothing else. But then there was the tiniest of resistances, a tensing of Kendra’s hand against his cheek. She pulled away, and Lyor tried to breath easy.

“Are you sure this is actually what you want?” Kendra murmured against his lips. “Right now?”

“Don’t do that,” Lyor said urgently. “Please. This is the only thing I’ve been sure about for a long time. Promise me you’ll never tell me how I should be feeling. Promise me that.”

Kendra’s eyes were stern. “As long as you promise never to hide those feelings from me.”

“I promise,” Lyor said, waited a heartbeat, and with Kendra’s nod, pulled her into another, deeper kiss. He’d made a lot of promises lately, but at least that one he knew he could keep.

How had Lyor looked past this for so long? He was never going to lose everything, not when there was Kendra. He had been scared that if he let Kendra into his life, then everything would fall apart. But he knew now that was going to happen anyway- at least this way, Lyor would have someone to weather it with. Because Kendra, she would never fall away. She was his one constant. It had always been the two of them, he realised that now. Even when he’d pushed her away, she was there; always, always, just out of sight. Never letting go.

_Letting go._

“Oh,” Lyor said, and he felt himself go slack.

Two, always two. Never letting go. How could he have been so stupid?

“Lyor?” Kendra asked. She had pulled back again, but this time she didn’t let go, lacing her hands around the back of his neck steadily. She was frightened, he realised- waiting for him to go limp and cold in her arms. Instead, he looked down at her, lips paralysed on the edge of a thought.

“I know how Seth can pass on.”


	23. One More Time With Feeling

screaming running loudloudloud water like thunder in his ears dragging him down

down

down

down

blood in his mouth mixing with salty sea the taste of it like pennies filling his lungs he screams screams screams but nobody can hear

(everyone else is screaming too)

slam! vision dark ears ringing he feels the tear of his clothes his skin and he still can’t breathe

the shrieks the roar the swell of the water all fade away there is nothing but the warm touch of the sun on his face and the ringing in his ears (so l o u d)

and

darkness.

pain pain pain rising and falling like the gasping tide in out in out

sound. movement. voices. pain. always pain. cold seeping into his bones turning slowly to warmth with yelling yelling so much yelling and then a voice

a face?

a promise.

gentle words. mumbling. coughing. warm air warm tears warm hand on his. lips moving desperate to speak please please please

a question.

and then

..

...

....

.....

“.......Seth? Seth?”

Through the scream of the water, and of the actual screams: a voice. At first it was little more than a whisper, a bell sounding amidst a raging storm. But the longer it tolled, the more Seth was drawn toward it- that voice, he knew, was important.

Slowly, Seth drew himself back, clawing along the tattered remains of the tether. It took an excruciatingly long time- longer than ever before- but eventually he gasped into existence. He couldn’t tell where he was exactly. Everything was still an inconstant blur, muddled by the overlay of stripped stretches of beach and jagged debris looming up like teeth from some crooked, gaping maw. But Seth could see Lyor, and that was all that mattered.

There was an awful, artificial expression on his face. Several opposing emotions were cobbled together there, as if Lyor couldn’t decide what he was supposed to be feeling and had instead gone in for everything.

“I, uh, I have some good news,” Lyor said. The words seemed warped in some way, like they were out of sync with his lips, or- no. Out of sync with his tone. Seth shifted unsurely, rolling with uneasiness. Around him, the fragile image of Taurasi shivered, and he caught a glimpse of a sunlit room behind it, achingly familiar.

He should probably say something. Lyor seemed to think so too, because he waited for a few moments, with Seth still gaping like a fish, until he gave in and carried on.

“I’ve figured it out,” he said. And then, when those words made no impact: “I know how you can pass on.”

The mirage shattered like glass. It took Seth half a second to register that they were in Kendra’s office, with the lawyer standing a foot behind Lyor, and another two to realise that his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. Seth hadn’t realised quite how certain he was that they’d never find a way until now that he’d been proven wrong.

“Oh,” he said, over and over again, the sounds quick and urgent as bullets as they followed each other out of his mouth. “Oh. Oh. Oh.”

So many emotions, crashing into him like waves. Seth felt the way he had when he’d first discovered he was dead; overcome. From where he was standing in that office with his whole form still trembling violently, he was lost in it all. But there was a part of him, he felt, that was still back on that beach in Taurasi, protected by memory, watching this unfold with a clinical gaze. That part of him diagnosed joy, intermingled with terror and encroaching sadness, and overshadowed most of all by the most dizzying feeling of release, as if, after a lifetime of holding his breath, he’d finally been told he could exhale.

Lyor didn’t seem to know what to do with that reaction, or himself. His emotions were still warring it out on his face, and he turned with evident relief when Kendra, clearly sensing that a translator was going to be needed here, stepped in.

“You’re sure?” she asked, and Lyor nodded fiercely.

“As sure as I can be.” He turned back to Seth, gesturing vaguely at the air between them. Unthinkingly, Seth mirrored the gesture, and something inside him flickered feebly.

“You tried to pass on by breaking the connection,” Lyor said, “and you couldn’t do it, not properly.”

That stirring, Seth realised, had been the thread. It shuddered again, almost seeming to give a wail of agreement at Lyor’s words. He felt for it; it was a tired, butchered thing- half dead road-kill, still dragging itself along even as chunks of itself trailed out from behind. Seth, all of a sudden, felt absurdly guilty for what he’d done to it.

“But that connection doesn’t end with you, Seth,” Lyor explained. “It goes two ways. Between two people.”

And Seth understood. “You have to break it as well,” he breathed, throat finally unsticking itself. He could have laughed- as he said it, it seemed so obvious. “Of course, of course..” He smiled. “It has to be you.”

It seemed as though everything was going to lead back to Lyor. Everything since Seth’s death had trailed out from his last memory of Lyor beside him, and as Seth traced his path back, he always ended up at that one moment: Lyor’s eyes on Seth, and Seth’s eyes on him. They had returned there again now- everything else was faded and paper-thin in comparison to Lyor as Seth stared at him. He looked an odd mix of resolute and vulnerable, the same as he had last night in his bedroom- and suddenly Seth had the urge to kiss him again. Not because he wanted to, but because he didn’t know any other possible way to express the magnitude of emotion pressing against his chest.

Lyor was just as caught up in that moment as he was. He looked restrained; constantly on the edge of saying something but unable to spit it out. Seth drank in the struggle, and the whole world faded away around them for a brilliant ten seconds before they remembered themselves, remembered that there was a time limit here.

“So,” Lyor said, dropping his gaze slightly. “....When do you want to do this?”

Seth chewed his lip. He _didn’t_ want to do this. It would be a relief, finally putting an end to this constant cycle of agony he’d trapped himself in, and, of course, he needed to for Lyor’s sake. But still, the idea of dying, for real this time- it was so fucking terrifying. He wanted to run from it as long as he could, scrounging a few more moments before he had to face the music. But even with Lyor grounding him, Seth could still feel the edges of the world flickering uneasily, waiting for the moment they could collapse back into memory and drag Seth with them. And Seth couldn’t be sure whether he’d be able to claw his way back this time.

“I think....” Seth wished he could give a different answer, but he couldn’t put this off any longer. “It gets harder every minute,” he said regretfully. Lyor seemed to get what he was saying. The man gave one hard, sharp nod, and stepped back a fraction to align himself with Kendra. The lawyer was staring at Lyor beseechingly, and Seth remembered that Kendra couldn’t see him, or hear him either- she was only getting half of this exchange. But judging from the way she was biting her lip in a hopeless attempt to keep it from trembling, she had obviously figured it out.

“Now?” she asked, not sounding very much like she was asking a question.

Lyor pressed a fist to his temple. It was a surprisingly restrained motion- Seth had expected boiling emotions, but Lyor in that moment was all soft edges. There was a considering look on his face.

“Not yet,” he said meaningfully. “You don’t want to do it yet.”

There was something about Lyor’s tone of voice, the way his fist was curled so loosely, that told Seth this wasn’t the start of an argument. So instead of snapping back, he asked simply: “Why?”

Lyor took a deliberate step to close the distance between them. There was still a melting pot of emotion raging in his eyes, but there was also determination vibrating off him. “You never know when things are going to be your last until they are,” he murmured, and Seth realised he was echoing Seth’s own words from last night back to him. “Now you know. This is your second chance, Seth, exactly what you wanted. Maybe you got everything else wrong, but you can get your ending right.”

There was that fluttering again, stretched between them, as the connection shivered longingly. It understood what Lyor was saying a second before Seth did. When it finally clicked, he almost buckled with sheer want, but held out long enough to level Lyor with a doubtful glance.

“It won’t kill me,” Lyor insisted with a subtle eye roll. That hadn’t entirely been Seth’s concern, though it had still lurked ever-present at the back of his mind. He was mostly dubious about whether the tattered remains of their link would even allow for such an immense surge of energy. There was only one way to find out, though. Seth glanced down at his body- even to himself, he was starting to look insubstantial.

“One last time,” Lyor said, and Seth’s eyes fluttered closed for a brief second.

A final chance to feel the slightest bit human. He could say all those things he’d thought he’d have a lifetime to say. This time, he had the chance to get this right. It was, without doubt, the greatest gift he’d ever received.

“One last time,” Seth echoed, and Lyor took that as agreement. The other man backed off a little, which Seth realised after a second was so he could brace himself against Kendra. He nodded.

_Alright- here goes nothing_ , Seth thought. He tried to dampen down the giddiness coursing through him. He didn’t want to get too excited and rush to suck up energy in a surge- the last thing he wanted to do was hurt Lyor. So instead, he took it slowly, nudging the link into wakefulness as he eased energy down into his core, increment by increment. It felt like so long since Seth had last done this that for a moment he was worried he’d forgotten how. But it was like riding a bike. The energy seeped in first as a trickle, and then as a steady, pulsating flow that flooded warmth through every part of him. It felt like waking up.

Seth blinked languidly, stretching his arms luxuriously above his head. God, he could purr like a kitten he felt so comfortable. Even the air felt different against his skin, almost crackling over it like static, as if to remind him that he was solid- Seth had never appreciated this enough before. He grinned dopily at Lyor and Kendra- Lyor looked a little grey, and he was slumping bonelessly against Kendra’s shoulder, but even then there was the glimmer of a smug smirk sharpening his features. Kendra had a smile stretched so wide Seth’s own cheek muscles twinged in phantom sympathy-pain. Now that Seth had lost his foggy tunnel vision, he noticed that her hand was entwined tightly in Lyor’s own.

Seth had probably spied similar moments like this between them over the last few months, but there was something about the way Lyor was returning the grasp so unflinchingly that told him there was something different about this. Seth’s eyes crinkled with delighted approval.

“You two finally sorted yourselves out then?”

“Oh, don’t start,” Lyor groaned, but he kept his fingers encircled around Kendra’s palm, their joined arms stretching out like a banner between them as she stepped forward towards Seth, only letting go when he risked being yanked forward himself. Kendra snaked her now free arms around Seth’s neck, pressing them both together, cheek to cheek.

“There you are,” she whispered in his ear, then stepped back with shining eyes. She looked between him and Lyor, back and forth.

“You ready?” she asked- to both of them. Seth’s eyes went straight to Lyor. The other man hesitated for a second, and then gave a final, firm nod. Seth let that be answer enough for the both of them. Because, honestly, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready for what was about to happen. He was the one who’d pushed for this, but when it came down to it- when it wasn’t a snap decision made from panic- Seth needed Lyor to lead him.

And he did, through the stretching corridors as they made a beeline for the President’s office. Lyor was speeding along now, as if he just wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. Seth and Kendra rushed to catch up with him, and there was a near collision in an intersection where Lyor practically slammed into Aaron.

“Jesus, Lyor-“ Aaron spluttered, and then his eyes narrowed. “What are you even doing here?”

Even as he spoke, his eyes slid up to meet Seth’s, and his mouth dropped open a little. “Seth, you’re-“

Seth gave him a sad little smile, and Aaron’s eyes widened as he glanced at Kendra to confirm his suspicion. She nodded, and he swallowed roughly before he frantically pulled his features into something approaching stoicism. “Oh,” he said stiffly. “I see.”

“This is convenient,” Lyor said. “Now I won’t have to chase you down. Come with us. Seth’s doing a proper goodbye.”

“Right- right, yeah. Of course,” Aaron mumbled, awkward and quiet, and Lyor arched an eyebrow.

“Do you have someplace more important to be?”

It occurred to Seth suddenly that there was a good possibility that Aaron did, in fact, have more pressing matters to attend to. But his friend just shook his head mutely and fell into step beside Seth with only a light press of their shoulders together. Aaron must have known this was coming, but to have it sprung on him like this- Seth’s mouth tightened in sympathy. It couldn’t be helped, unfortunately. This was as good as it was going to get.

Down the hall, Seth spied the familiar frizz of Tricia’s hair just as she walked into view. She stopped in her tracks when she saw their little group, gaze fixing on Seth with suspicious wonder. She darted over, but before any of them had time to explain, Lyor twitched impatiently.

“Let’s go,” he ordered. “You too, Tricia.”

Tricia looked confusedly at Kendra as they walked, but her expression morphed into one of puppyish sorrow as Kendra whispered in her ear. She really was a sweet kid, Seth reflected fondly. They had no real relationship to speak of, but there she was, chewing her lip morosely as she trailed along with them to the President’s office so she could send him off.

There was a murmur of voices coming from the office that Seth could identify as Keith, Rosemary, and the President as they drew closer. He stalled, not wanting to interrupt, but Lyor powered straight through the door.

“Are we interrupting something?” Seth heard Lyor ask noncommittally.

“We’re just wrapping up here,” came the President’s reply, and Seth took that as his cue, stepping into the room with Aaron on one side and Kendra on the other, Tricia flanking him from the back. The President stood up, delight lighting his features, but Rosemary and Keith took a simultaneous step back. Rosemary recovered admirably quickly, tilting her chin up.

“It’s you again,” she said with a defensive, half-hearted sort of contempt. “You’re looking rather less freakish than the last time we met.”

“Yeah,” Seth grinned crookedly. “Sorry we couldn’t meet under better circumstances.”

Rosemary let out an almost-chuckle. Beside her, Keith had his arms crossed peevishly. He turned scowlingly to Lyor, as if his exaggerated frown could hide the fear that had drained into his face as soon as Seth walked through the door.

“I thought you were getting rid of him?”

“Go fuck yourself, Keith,” Seth replied cheerfully, not caring when the man spluttered indignantly.

“So...” the President glanced to him with barely restrained hope dripping from his voice. “You’re back?”

Seth’s grin faltered. He shook his head gently. “Not for long,” he explained. His words seemed to echo in the deafening silence that fell over the room in the wake of them. The President stood a little straighter then, like he was at a funeral. Seth supposed he was, in a way- funerals were how people said goodbye to the dead, after all. The dead just usually weren’t able to say it back.

Even Rosemary and Keith looked sobered. The Press Secretary surveyed the room. “I shouldn’t be here,” she announced primly, and make a quick escape for the door. She was halfway out the door when Seth, on impulse, called out to her.

“Hey, Rosemary? You’re doing a great job.”

Rosemary hesitated. She only turned back a fraction, but it was enough for Seth to make out the wisp of a smile curling her lips.

“I know,” she said simply, and Seth decided right then and there that he would have quite liked Rosemary Alvarez. She lingered a fraction longer, still smiling in that guarded way of hers, but it looked genuine as she said: “Godspeed, Wright.”

In a split second transformation, she hardened as she gave her head a sharp jerk in the direction of the door. “Get moving, Keith,” she barked. She could tell that this was not the place for Schuler; this was private. Keith started at the words- he’d been staring at Seth with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I’m...sorry,” Keith managed, painfully insincere, and Seth rolled his eyes in thanks. “I’ll, uh, I’ll leave you to it.” He slunk towards where Rosemary was waiting impatiently, skirting well away from Seth. But he drifted back to skim past Lyor, almost smacking their shoulders together with a juvenile petulance that Seth had only ever seen Lyor muster before.

“Maybe after this you’ll learn how to be useful again,” Keith muttered. Lyor almost flinched, constraining himself to a tensing of his shoulders- and it was that more than anything that made Seth’s blood boil. Whether Keith knew it or not- and he almost definitely did- that had struck a nerve with Lyor, who had spent every second since Taurasi feeling like a waste of air. Seth clenched his fists- he felt stronger now than he ever had before. He could probably fling Keith across the room. He could pin him against the wall, squash his ribs until they popped out of place from the pressure and his lips went blue. Seth wasn’t a violent man, but god was he willing to rethink that. How dare he? How fucking dare he-?

If the atmosphere in the room had been cold when Seth delivered his news, then it was positively Arctic now. Seth was about ready to explode and Kendra and Tom didn’t look far behind, but Lyor recovered himself in an instant. “Okay, you know what-“ he growled, but Aaron put out a warning hand.

“No, Lyor. Back off,” he said.

“Are you kidding me, man?” Seth spluttered indignantly, and Kendra swung her fuming glare to skewer Aaron instead, but he ignored them both. His focus was fixed steadfastly on Keith, and Keith alone.

“What the hell is your problem?”

Keith blinked at Aaron’s words. “Excuse me?”

Seth hadn’t noticed it before, the way Aaron had tensed up, his eyes darkening, but now he could hear the man’s fury clear as day in the dangerous drop of his voice. “Even now, you’re trying to turn this into some sort of power play? Can’t you give him one moment of peace?” He advanced menacingly, passing a stunned Lyor to back Keith up towards the door. “You’re a heartless goddamn bastard.”

There were two red spots of anger flaming against Keith’s pale cheeks. “You can’t talk to me like that!”

“I’ll talk to you how I like. Especially since you’ve been saying whatever you want about Lyor since you’ve gotten here. You’re not putting him in his place, you’re just a pathetic, whiny little brat who likes to make yourself feel big, and I’m done with it.” It took a moment like this to appreciate just how imposing a figure Aaron cut, and Keith was getting an eyeful. He gulped audibly.

“Never speak to him like that again, do you understand me?” Aaron growled, and waited for Keith to give a frantic little nod before relenting in his looming advance.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of my face.”

Keith didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to the door, and Rosemary dragged him the rest of the way out with a look of derision warping her elegant features. She slammed the door behind them, leaving the room rolling in a stunned aftershock. Lyor looked Aaron up and down suspiciously, probably trying to find the subtle difference that would reveal the man in front of him to be an imposter, rather than the Aaron he knew. He couldn’t find one.

“...Huh.”

Aaron tersely straightened his jacket, pivoting to face the room. “Sorry, Mr President.”

“That was unwise, Aaron,” Tom said. “And highly unprofessional.” Aaron nodded shortly, and the President sighed. “And also entirely called for.” Aaron nodded again, this time with a hint of grim satisfaction, and then he turned to Seth. A moment of understanding passed between them- he realised that Aaron’s outburst had been for him as much as it had been for Lyor. _I’ll_ _look out for him,_ Aaron had been saying. _You don’t have to worry._ Seth couldn’t speak for gratitude.

“Alright,” the President said gravely. “How is this going to happen?”

All eyes were on Seth again, and he cleared his throat in preparation. “Lyor figured it out,” he said. “We have this...connection between us, that keeps me here. I tried to sever it before, but I botched it, ‘cause it only works if we both do it. That’s all Lyor has to do- break the link.”

With that explanation out in the air, it felt like the end that had been looming had been set, irrevocably, in motion. It was time.

“Guys, I-“ he started, and then frowned. He needed to get this perfect, but that seemed impossible. Maybe he should have written something down. He laughed at himself, shaking his head. “You know, I’m supposed to be a damn speechwriter, but I really don’t know how to put this into words.” Seth looked out at the huddle of people around him, studying each face for every feature, every imperfection- everything that made them who they were. These were the people Seth had chosen to spend both his lives with, and he didn’t regret a damn thing about it. And suddenly, Seth knew exactly what to say.

“My parents aren’t here,” he said. “My brother either. But I still wouldn’t change this. You know, guys; you’re my family. I love all of you.” Seth was staggeringly grateful that ghosts weren’t able to cry, because otherwise he’d be a mess right now. He powered on anyway. “All of this; the good times, the bad times- even the fucking horrible times...I’m glad I got to do it with you.”

The air was thick with emotion. Even Aaron’s voice had a hint of a quiver in it when he spoke up. “Seth, I, uh-“ He licked his lips, and Seth imagined he was desperately searching for the right words as well. “Thank you. For coming back.”

Seth gave him a wobbly grin. “Oh, now you’re getting sappy? Come on, man.”

“Shut up,” Aaron snorted, and then pulled him into a hug with lighting speed. Aaron never hugged first. Seth squeezed back as tight as could, as if he could impart a little bit of himself into his friend’s skin.

“You look after yourself, alright?” Seth mumbled into his shoulder. “Maybe even take a break once in a while.” They pulled apart, but Seth kept Aaron’s shoulder captured beneath his hand. “Hey, listen,” he said with an urgency he couldn’t quite explain. “You’re my best friend.” He squeezed Aaron’s shoulder tight. “You’re my _best friend_.”

Aaron closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened again, they glistened like sunlight on glass. “Yeah,” he rasped.

Seth felt himself drawn to the President next like a magnet. He didn’t even have to think about the words as they spilled from his mouth. “Mr President. It’s been an honour.”

Tom shook his head. “The honour has been all mine.”

“I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you win the election. And you will win it, okay?” Seth tried on a dazzling grin, and to his astonishment, he managed to hold it. “Otherwise I’m gonna have to come back and haunt you again.”

“I’ll try my best,” Tom laughed as he embraced Seth- and, god, the President really did give the best hugs.

“Seth...” Tom murmured as he let him go, something for his ears only. “If you see her....”

Seth smiled. “I’ll tell her.”

Tricia shuffled sheepishly as Seth turned to her, but Seth smiled encouragingly as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Thank you for everything, Tricia,” he said seriously. “You’re going to go far.”

“Thank you, Mr Wright,” she said, returning the smile with breathtaking force.

Kendra was next, and she didn’t waste a second before wrapping him up in her arms. “Ohhh, Seth,” she sighed.

“Hey, Ken,” Seth said adoringly. “Have I ever told you that you’re freaking awesome?”

Kendra chuckled wetly. “Not nearly as often as you should have. But I’ll forgive you.”

Seth tightened his grip, ghosting his lips over her ear. “Take care of him,” he whispered, and Kendra squeezed back in silent promise.

There was only one person remaining. Seth searched for Lyor, and his chest tightened when he finally found him- Lyor had removed himself from the others, standing at the back of the room like he was trying to melt into the woodwork. It made Seth’s heart ache, Lyor thinking he wasn’t supposed to be part of this, because no goodbye Seth said today could ever be as important as this one. Seth felt the words forming behind his lips, but as he looked at Lyor, shielded in aloofness, he realised that this wasn’t right at all.

“Now?” Lyor asked, peering up at his from over his glasses.

“No,” Seth said softly. “This isn’t the right way.”

Lyor’s lips parted in confusion. “I thought-?”

“Not here,” Seth insisted. “Not like this.” He drew closer to Lyor til there was barely a breath between them. He knew what they had to do now. “I made you a promise once,” he murmured. “And now I have to break it. It needs to be there. Do you remember?” _Do you understand?_

The way Lyor nodded, it was like he was saying: _how could I forget?_

“Alright,” Seth said softly, and then again to the others. “Alright.”

One by one, the others nodded. Seth drank in the sight of them one last time, tried to make an imprint of it behind his eyelids. Then, with a hand on Lyor’s elbow, he made for the door.

“Wait!” Kendra burst out. They both turned back, but her eyes were fixed squarely on Lyor. He went to her without a word, and Kendra cupped the back of his neck as she pressed their foreheads together. A few moments passed where they didn’t say anything, and then Kendra pulled back just enough to place a gentle kiss on Lyor’s lips.

“I’ll be here,” she murmured.

They walked. It was half an hour by foot. Kendra had offered her car, but Seth wanted to experience every last thing the outside world could offer him, and Lyor insisted that he could manage the exercise. Seth stuck close by him anyway. By the time they reached the graveyard, the sun was just kissing the horizon, and Seth whispered thanks that he got to see one final sunset.

“Why here?” Lyor asked as they stopped in front of the gravestone. The begonias from before were gone- his parents mustn’t have the time to keep replacing them- but there was another fresh bunch of white peonies brightening the base. Seth smiled; he had always loved peonies.

He looked down at the dates etched into the stone. Birth and death. Maybe he should have been repulsed by the sight of it, but he felt just the same as he had the first time he’d visited his grave; just acceptance. This is what it came down to, in the end. It seemed so simple. “I thought it’d be easier,” he said. “For both of us. It’s a reminder that...this is how it’s supposed to be.”

He tipped his head back, sweeping his eyes across the radiant, ruby streaked sky. It was clear as glass. “Nice day for it,” he mused. “Not many people get to choose the day they die. Or the place.” He glanced at Lyor. “Or the people.”

Lyor shifted beside him. “You really don’t want to be with _other_ people this time?”

Seth smiled a little as he turned to face Lyor fully. “Lyor, out of all the problems I had with my first death, who I was with wasn’t one of them.”

Seth watched the way Lyor twisted his lips, nostrils flaring slightly, in a way that Seth knew was Lyor’s version of self consciousness. Half a year ago, Seth wouldn’t have thought that emotion on him possible. A lot was different now, though. He used to think that it was Lyor who had changed- and he had, in some ways- but so had Seth’s perspective. This: the way Lyor was now, this had always been him. Seth had just never realised it before.

“You know, I don’t think I ever saw you, when I was alive.”

Lyor turned his head away slightly, nodding tightly as a stream of air escaped his clenched teeth. This was the man Seth could have gotten to know, gotten to love: and the knowledge of that made leaving him so much harder.

“Listen, Lyor, there’s something you need to do for me. It’s the most important thing, alright?” Seth said, voice suddenly sandpaper rough. “When all this is over, I need you to promise me that you are going to be okay. And that doesn’t mean you can’t grieve- I reckon I’m owed a few tears at this point,” he added with a feeble grin that Lyor couldn’t return, but it quickly dropped from his face. “It means that...you need to learn to forgive yourself for this. Because you deserve happiness, Lyor. You’re owed it.”

Lyor looked away again, then down- anywhere but Seth, so he stepped closer. He needed Lyor to hear this.

“You told me once that there didn’t have to be any meaning to me coming back,” he murmured. “Well, maybe there isn’t, not in the grand scheme of the universe- but I don’t care. If I’ve managed to achieve anything with this second chance, I want it to be that. I want you to accept that you can be happy.” Seth ran his hand up to rest on Lyor’s neck and lingered there.

“That’s my meaning, Lyor. I’m giving it to you.”

“Seth,” Lyor whispered. “Sethsethsethsethsethsethseth.” Again and again, until his name was nothing but a jumble lost in formless breath. He pulled Seth to him then, clutching possessively at his shoulders, almost aggressively, as if he could get him to stay if he just held on tight enough. For a minute, Seth let himself believe it as well, burying his face in Lyor’s shoulder as those long arms wrapped around him. Seth clung to him and tried not to think about how this was the first time Lyor had properly reciprocated his embrace- and more than that; _actually reached for him first_. Their first hug. Their last hug.

Seth didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to, because with the way Lyor was holding onto him, he wasn’t sure the other man was physically capable. He eased both their grips free, and Lyor acquiesced, scrambling for composure, for speech. “So,” he managed. “How do I do this?”

Finding the thread was like breathing for Seth now, but it couldn’t be as easy for Lyor. Things could be more abstract in death. He tried to think of how to explain it without resorting to talk of feelings- but really, this had only ever been about feelings.

“Close your eyes and feel for it,” Seth prompted. Lyor squeezed his shut, and after an agonising two minutes, nodded hesitatingly.

“I have it. Now-?”

“Just let it guide you,” Seth murmured. “You’ll know what to do.”

Lyor opened his piercing blue eyes, gazing helplessly at Seth as he sucked in a shaky breath.

“Even after everything...” he breathed. “Somehow I still thought I could save you.”

Seth shook his head with a tender, trembling smile. “You are.”

There was a steadily growing pressure spreading from Seth’s centre. Inside, he could feel the thread pulling, tearing apart at the seams. It wouldn’t be long now, he could tell. One last tug, and it would be over. Seth kept his eyes on the man in front of him, not blinking once. Over and over again, his mind kept replaying that night in Taurasi- but for once, not the pain. Just one exchange of words, ones that had followed him into death and beyond.

_“I’m right here, Seth. I won’t leave.”_

_“Promise?”_

_“I promise.”_

Seth and Lyor. Lyor and Seth. From then til now- to the end.

“Lyor,” Seth said, even as he felt the ability to form words slipping away from him. “Thank you. For keeping your promise.”

Lyor’s face was a wreck of emotion. There was still pain there. But, god, there was always going to be pain. It was the most natural emotion in the world. Lyor would live with this pain; but he would live, he would live, he would _live_. The thread splintered. Seth didn’t look away. He kept seeing those eyes even as the world lost shape around him. It wasn’t supposed to end like this. But it would have to be enough. Seth could live with this. Seth could die with this.

One last tug. Everything went dark, and Seth heard nothing at all.

**—**

There was a slight breeze picking up now, whispering through the leaves and flattening the grass all around. Lyor felt it race over his skin, sheathing him with cold as he stared at the empty air in front of him.

It was incredible, how fast the change took place. One minute, he was swaying on his feet, and the next he felt rejuvenated like he never had before. It was as if he’d had a headache for so long that he didn’t even notice it until it was gone. Lyor sucked in the evening air, feeling the easiness of his breathing- he hadn’t felt like this in a long, long time, but...

But.

Slowly, he lowered himself down to sit in front of the gravestone. He kneaded the grass beneath him with the heel of his palm. He tried to search inside himself for that vivid stretch of thread, just like Seth had taught him. He found nothing.

_Okay_ , Lyor thought. _Okay, okay, okay_. Suddenly, breathing didn’t feel so easy anymore. He exhaled slowly, resting his chin on his drawn up knees as he blinked through blurriness to read Seth’s epitaph again and again. _We shall find you in the grey summer garden..._

The words slid away into a smudge. Lyor pressed a fist to his lips, trying to even out his breaths: in, out, in- the pattern broke, and he started again falteringly. This was different to the first time, back in Taurasi. Now, Lyor felt- he felt-

He _felt_.

He let his head tilt back, throat exposed to the sky. It was a firestorm of colour now, all screaming reds and rolling oranges emblazoning the horizon. What was that old saying? Red sky at night; shepherd’s delight? Or, in scientific terms, an indication of high pressure and stable air coming in from the west. Either way- good weather to follow.

For now though, night was falling. Lyor sent a message to Kendra, and waited for her to come for him.


	24. The Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Whoop!

_Their footsteps crunched over sand and shattered glass. The ground was swallowed up in ankle-deep debris, but Lyor waded through it like it was water as he walked with Seth. They were strolling through the skeletal remains of that beach-side town, passing crackling power lines and piles of rubble that towered almost to head height. Seth didn’t seem to notice though, and they talked about negotiations with the Taurasi governor like it was the most important thing in the world._

_Lyor treaded carefully. It wasn’t just glass shards underfoot- there were people, too. Faces that looked distantly familiar lined the sidewalk, piled high on top of each other; tossed there like discarded dolls. Their skin was sun-bleached by now, grinning skulls almost shining through their sallow cheeks, but somehow that made them easier to recognise. Yes, Lyor remembered now- there was the man whose body he had tripped over ten minutes into searching. There was the first person he’d seen brought into triage- a woman with her throat ripped raw from the fishing rope tangled around it. Up ahead, a man stumbled along with his tiny daughter clutched in his arms. Her lifeless, doll-like eyes stared blankly at Lyor, and then the two of them disappeared around the corner, out of sight._

_Lyor didn’t want to think about them. He turned back to Seth, but the other man had stopped talking. They halted in front of a dilapidated building with no distinguishing features except for a dangling sign that had the faint insignia of a coffee cup on it. The glass door had been demolished, and Lyor could look through the empty room inside to see a staircase in the back, leading up to the roof. Lyor couldn’t explain why, but the very sight of it made him weak with dread. He wanted to tell Seth to keep moving, but the words caught in his throat._

_“This is where it got me,” Seth said tonelessly._

_Lyor stared at him breathlessly. “You’re right here,” he said, almost a plea._

_Seth shook his head, but he was smiling as he brought up a hand to cup the back of Lyor’s neck. His skin was cold- and, god, how had Lyor not noticed before? “So are you,” he murmured._

_And then he was fading, dissolving into specks of dust before Lyor’s eyes. He grasped at the crumbling silhouette, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep him together. Wisps of Seth fluttered away through Lyor’s outstretched fingers, and he was gone, gone, gone-_

“....Ssh....”

Lyor cracked his eyes open. There was a hand stroking his cheek, but this one was warm against his skin. Everything around him was toasty, actually, and reality slowly began to trickle back into Lyor’s sleep-dulled mind. This wasn’t his apartment. This wasn’t his bed. He was with Kendra.

“Ssh,” she was still murmuring, and Lyor realised his cheeks were wet. “Ssh, sweetheart. It was just a dream.”

Yes, it was just a dream, just a memory, just everything that was gone forever; what was never coming back. Kendra had curled herself around him, searching out his gaze beseechingly with warm, soft eyes. Usually, they were like a magnet for Lyor, drawing him to them without a hint of resistance. But this time he turned away. He wasn’t able to bear it- not when a part of him couldn’t help but wish she was someone else.

Kendra seemed to understand, and she just moved her hands to rest loosely over his heart; there whenever he was ready for her. Lyor slumped his head to the side, breathing slowly through his nose. The minutes ticked by, and Lyor’s chest still felt far too tight.

“Are you okay?” Kendra eventually ventured. Lyor didn’t answer, couldn’t answer- he just squeezed his eyes shut. The dream had faded away, but he could still feel Seth dissolving under his hands. Three nights on, and it was the same dream every time.

How many times was Lyor going to have to lose him?

 

* * *

 

The lengthy, torturous meeting- last in a seemingly never ending line of lengthy, torturous meetings- wrapped up, and Lyor finally let out the exasperated groan he’d been holding in the entire day into the emptiness of the conference room. Which rock were all these brain-dead gremlins crawling out of, anyway? And how were there so many of them? Lyor gave a silent eulogy to the future of politics before heading to the door.

Before he could leave though, something pulled him back in. A noise, a rustle, a faint stirring in the air behind him. Lyor tightened his grip on the door handle. There was a breeze outside, he knew, and one of the windows was open a crack. If he turned around now, he would probably see the leaves of the potted plants fluttering and nothing more...

“Seth?” Lyor called softly, gaze still fixed on the door.

There was no answer.

Lyor dragged himself around. There was a wind blowing through the open window, stirring the artificial green leaves of the plastic plant on the table into a gentle sway, and the room was empty. Lyor very carefully tried not to allow himself to feel disappointment- he didn’t let himself feel anything at all. He lingered one more moment, just so he could put off having to speak to Schuler about-

_No_ , a painfully familiar voice chided in his head, _no_. He wasn’t putting off work, he was waiting to see if the room would go cold.

Lyor shook his head, stalking out the door. He shouldn’t be wasting his time like this. He had work to do.

 

* * *

 

Even with the telltale sound of a certain unpleasant someone striding into his office, Lyor made a point of keeping his eyes glued to his phone screen. There was a a light cough, the rustling of arms being folded and unfolded, and a pointed clearing of a throat before Lyor, with an exasperated twitch of an eyebrow, deigned to glance up at the oddly subdued face of Keith Schuler.

“I’m not baking you a farewell cake,” he deadpanned before Schuler had a chance to say anything. The other man gaped in slight surprise before huffing out a listless laugh.

“I suppose word’s gotten around then?” he said. Word certainly had- it was what Lyor had just been looking at, actually. Kendra had sent him a message two minutes ago; well, message was being generous- it was a flurry of thumbs up and smiley face emojis, followed up by a single, cryptic: _He’s gone!!!_ Not the most straightforward of communications, but with that level of excitement in her digital tone, Lyor hadn’t had any doubts as to who ‘he’ was. Now the only question was: what on earth had convinced Keith Schuler to resign?

Lyor stared at the man critically for a few second. “Why?” he finally said in a flat tone. Schuler was many things, but a climber first and foremost, and giving up a position at the White House meant there was only a path down for any politician.

“You could say I don’t feel particularly welcome,” he said airily, and Lyor remembered with cozy satisfaction how Aaron had ripped him a new one in front of the entire staff- an experience that seemed to be becoming commonplace for Schuler. The man was leaning against the doorway nonchalantly, but he still couldn’t hide the faint edge of bitterness sharpening his features. When he continued, his tone was hard. “I’m never going to be effective at my job if none of my staff respects me, and this is the absolute worst time for our ranks to crumble. The President needs better than that.”

Lyor sized him up appraisingly. That was...an excellent analysis, and absolutely not what he would have expected from Schuler. The man Lyor thought he knew would have clung onto the title of Chief of Staff, primping his feathers with it even as Rome burned- that’s what would have happened five years ago, anyway. But maybe even Schuler was capable of learning from his mistakes, even if he was still a miserable, conniving little bastard. Lyor sure as hell didn’t like him, and he definitely couldn’t say he respected him, but...maybe there was something to be said for Keith Schuler after all.

Schuler thumbed his nose, grinning ugly and sardonic. “I’m surprised you’re not singing in the streets by now,” he said lightly. “You must be delighted.”

Is that what he wanted, for Lyor to be delighted? That was the other mystery Lyor had been trying to decode- why had Schuler come to see him at all, instead of slinking away with his tail between his legs? Lyor had initially suspected that he was looking for some final way to cut him down- or, after fishing around for literally any more believable reasons and finding none, because he wanted to apologise. But Schuler had done neither; instead, just stared at Lyor expectantly. And maybe that was it- maybe he wanted to see what final reaction he could stir from Lyor, after everything. It was the most deeply satisfying realisation for Lyor that there wasn’t going to be any sort of reaction at all. A week ago he would have been unbearable about it, but that had been before Seth was gone. Now, Lyor struggled to find a good reason to waste any energy on Keith Schuler.

Lyor gave a bored little sigh. “I don’t think I can properly express to you just how deeply I do not care.”

Schuler drew himself up, almost seeming offended that Lyor wasn’t booing him out of the White House. But Lyor had already lost the little interest he had scrounged up to manage the conversation, and he turned his eyes back to his phone dismissively.

“Well,” Schuler sniffed. “Good to know.” He waited a few more moments. Lyor didn’t look up- he’d begun typing out a reply to Kendra, and that was the most absorbing thing in his world at that moment. Schuler sighed audibly, and then, almost as an afterthought: “Have a nice life, Lyor.”

“You too, Keith.”

Schuler jerked, Lyor’s use of his first name hitting him like an electric shock, and he gaped at him in stunned silence for a good three seconds before shaking his head bemusedly and hurrying off. Lyor hid a smile as he watched him scurry away. Okay, so maybe he didn’t give a damn about Schuler in any capacity, but Lyor had admit- getting the last laugh felt pretty damn good.

 

* * *

 

The one and only downside to Schuler resigning was that they were once again missing a vital member of senior staff. And it could possibly be two soon, Lyor mused as he eyed Aaron’s frantic hair pulling. The guy looked one rocky day away from heart failure. Considering where they worked, Lyor was counting down the hours.

“So,” he was ranting, pacing in front of Lyor’s desk. “We’re back to square one again. Great.” He cursed violently in Spanish. Lyor understood about half of it, and was heartily impressed. “We may as well start taking open auditions from the public now!” Aaron exploded.

“Stop with the melodramatics, please. It doesn’t suit you,” Lyor said dryly, considering the merits of calling someone to check Aaron’s blood pressure. He figured what he had to say next would suffice. “Here.” He pulled out a sheet and handed it over. “I’ve already drawn up a list.”

Aaron snatched it up eagerly, like he was lost in the desert and Lyor had just offered him a bottle of water. Desperate relief warped into incredulity as his eyes travelled down the page, however.

“Blake, Somerset, Zhu- Lyor, none of these guys are even remotely qualified to be Chief of Staff. They all have strictly national security experience,” Aaron snapped, slamming the page back down on the desk.

“Which makes them perfect,” Lyor said blithely. “For National Security Advisor.”

Aaron squinted at him. Lyor smiled innocently back, wiggling the page enticingly. Then the pieces seemed to slide together, and Aaron barked out a sharp laugh. “...No.” He gave his head a firm shake. “No, the President already offered me the job and I declined.”

“Why?” Lyor pressed, leaning forward in his seat.

Aaron gave him a scathing look. “Because the last time I was Chief of Staff, I was questioned by the FBI on suspicion of treason. I’ve already bounced to National Security, I don’t want to bounce right back.” He was staring Lyor down with a determined set to his jaw, eyes cool and impassive as they locked gazes. Looking like that, Lyor could almost believe him.

He hummed thoughtfully, tilting his head with a wry smile. “I have recently learnt the value of being honest with myself,” he said slowly. “Which makes me extraordinarily good at telling when other people are lying to themselves as well.”

Aaron scoffed at that, but Lyor peered at him unrelentingly. The trap had been laid, and it played out to perfection: slowly, reluctantly, Aaron sank down into the opposite chair, expression cloudy as he stared at the paper with unseeing eyes that barely held back a suppressed storm of emotion. Aaron, in an unexpected, horrifying way, reminded Lyor of himself, in more ways than just the self deception. He remembered what it was like to feel words on his tongue, but not be able to force them out of his mouth; like that morning before visiting the grave. He also remembered the way that Seth had sat with him, quiet and confessional, waiting for him to find his words.

He sat, silently, and waited for Aaron to speak.

“After the bombing, Emily and I were at each other’s throats for that position-“ he began after a minute of contemplation, but then stopped, frowning, as if he was getting the words wrong. “Emily got the job,” he tried again slowly, “and look what she did with it. I feel like...I would never be able to shake that shadow.”

Emily, Lyor reflected sourly- she had really sunk her claws deep into this place, hadn’t she? Her memory was haunting the White House just as surely as Seth had, except this ghost was by no means friendly. The bitterness over the whole affair, from all of them, still lingered, but Lyor had to admit that he’d never really thought about Aaron’s reaction to it that much- certainly not in regards to this. He’d never pegged Aaron as the type for such moody introspection. But, he supposed, grief could bring out a lot in a person. He knew that now. And he also knew that he couldn’t let it stand in the way of what he knew was true.

“Emily’s gone,” he said smoothly. “And now the administration needs someone who’ll put us back on the right track.”

Distantly, Lyor let himself be amazing that he’d managed to give Aaron an actual, honest-to-god, compliment without feeling like he was pulling teeth. Aaron, for his part, had his eyes narrowed at Lyor’s words, waiting for the punchline, the last minute insult. It never came.

Aaron gave a suspicious half shrug. “I’ll...talk to the President.” Lyor smiled in satisfaction, but it felt strained. Aaron was looking at him oddly now, with something dangerously close to appreciation in his eyes, and it made Lyor want to pointedly barf. He did not want Aaron to take this as an offer of friendship- and definitely not as some repayment for standing up for him. Lyor was just doing his job.

Aaron got up to leave, but not before tossing one final quizzical glare over his shoulder. “Does this mean you’re going to refrain from openly mocking every decision I make?” he asked sardonically.

“Absolutely not,” Lyor replied, scandalised. “Somebody needs to keep you in check.”

Aaron’s face cleared. He gave Lyor an unimpressed scowl that could barely disguise his twitching lips, and Lyor smirked in return. And in that moment, everything almost felt normal again.

 

* * *

 

Lyor shifted his weight uncomfortably, then repositioned his hands, and then squirmed again. He hated this couch- it was so obnoxiously comfortable. Who did it think it was, being so damn inviting? The welcoming sigh of the cushions beneath him as he sank into it sounded almost as if it were mocking him for ever returning.

The couch, however, wasn’t who he had to explain himself to. Though he might have preferred that option over reality.

Dr Penfold sat opposite him, staring impassively at him through horn-rimmed glasses. Lyor had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling of being autopsied.

“So, Lyor,” Penfold said abruptly. “What made you decide to come back to therapy?” His voice was completely neutral, without even a hint of surprise, and Lyor resented the fact that the psychiatrist seemed to see this as an inevitability. But he restrained himself from instantly shooting back a snarky response. It would take time, but he was going to have to retrain his impulses if this was going to work.

He honestly didn’t know how much Penfold was going to be able to help him. This was about honesty, apparently, and Lyor knew there were some things he would never be able to share. He couldn’t talk about how he would still turn around sometimes, words ready, expecting to see Seth beside him, or about how the smell of smoke made him nauseous now, or why all this grief and guilt that should have been months old was fresh and raw and bleeding. But maybe Lyor could start by going back to the beginning- and somehow, he’d figure the rest out as he went along.

“I’m here because...you were right,” Lyor said reluctantly. “About everything. I refused to face what I was feeling because I was....scared....that acknowledging it would mean losing myself to it. And I’d already lost enough. But it wasn’t functional- I wasn’t functional.” He drew in a breath, steadying himself. He couldn’t count the ways he despised every second of this, but...

“But I want to be. And I want to get better. I have reasons to now.”

There was Kendra, of course. She deserved someone whole- and for her, he was willing to at least put in the effort. But underpinning all that, there was Seth. He’d said that Lyor deserved happiness- that was up for debate, but Lyor figured he owed it to him to do his best to believe it. Seth had ascribed his meaning to it, his second chance. Seth must have thought he was worth it, and what Seth believed was worth everything.

Penfold, for the first time that session, actually cracked a smile. “I’m very glad to here that, Lyor. Let’s get started.”

 

* * *

 

Frostbitten grass crunched under Lyor’s feet as he wound his familiar way through the cemetery. It was the first of December, and winter had heralded its arrival in style- postcard-perfect snow was dusting the bowing tree branches, and the stinging air was turning his nose numb. He hadn’t bothered with a scarf, though; Lyor enjoyed the cold.

He preferred to come alone when visiting Seth- he never even took Kendra with him. So when a dark coated figure rose up against the grey landscape around Seth’s grave, he thought he would have slowed. But he didn’t, even when he was close enough to make out that familiar sweep of long hair- or maybe because of it. He didn’t stop until he took his usual place in front of the gravestone, and he stood side by side with Emily Rhodes in the early morning light.

Emily didn’t flee. She didn’t even look his way, even though there was a tense air about her that radiated her keen awareness of him. She didn’t say anything, and so Lyor didn’t either. He didn’t usually speak to Seth anyway- the whole point was that he was gone, after all- and anything he could have wanted to say wasn’t for Emily’s ears.

He didn’t mind the silence. He let it cause a particular memory to lap at his mind. It had been at the funeral wake: Lyor had just been confronted by Seth’s brother, and he’d slipped off into the empty outside corridor to ride out his first panic attack. He managed it in near silence, slumped on the floor with his legs bent out in front of him and his glass of wine abandoned at his feet. He hadn’t even registered that someone had followed him until Emily settled down beside him. She didn’t try to comfort him, just wordlessly offered him a roll of mentos she always carried around in her purse; and so they’d sat side by side, him listlessly picking out the African Violets and her salvaging his wine and downing it in one swallow. In hindsight, Lyor realised that she had probably wanted to escape the simmering hostility of Kendra and Aaron- the only two people who’d known the truth about her then. At the time, Lyor had put it down to her own strange grieving process and just took it for what it was.

Lyor reached out suddenly, gently brushing off the flakes of snow that had begun to gather atop the gravestone. Emily looked at him then, eyes a little wide, as if she was surprised by the tenderness of his action. She opened her mouth to say something, but then Lyor met her gaze and her courage melted away.

“I didn’t think you came here,” Lyor said in the wake of her silence.

Emily lowered her gaze. “Trying to make up for lost time, I suppose. In advance.”

So, she might have been duplicitous, and crooked, and a traitor to her country- but at least Emily wasn’t deluded. She was still a political animal through and through, and she knew that they’d have to wait until after the re-election to go forward with the trial- but once that time came, she had no doubts about where she’d be ending up. Lyor was grateful they were at least on the same page in that regard- Emily’s guilt hadn’t been in question for him in a long time.

Her hands tightened their grip, and Lyor glanced down to see what she was holding. A bunch of white peonies. She knelt slowly to place them at the foot of the grave, and when she came up again Lyor realised she was speaking; words dragged in a low, hushed voice.

“I did love him, you know. Maybe not enough, and maybe not in the right ways, but I did love him.”

Lyor took a moment to try and figure out whether that was just another lie, before he decided that, really, it didn’t matter. Whatever that confession was, Emily was only saying it for herself.

Lyor resisted the urge to reach out to the gravestone again, just to feel the touch of it beneath his palm. Lies or not, Emily’s words played like a loop in his mind. Maybe she had loved him when he was alive. He wondered if that would have mattered, in the end. Would she have loved him if she’d had to watch him die? Or if he had come back to her, if he had been cold beneath her touch? And would she have loved him enough to let him go again? Lyor couldn’t say he could picture it- but he had managed to do all of that, so...

Maybe he was asking himself the wrong question.

I think I could’ve loved you, Seth’s voice whispered in his mind.

And Lyor’s mind whispered back. Yes. Yes.

Flakes of snow began to tumble down like ash from the grey, unsmiling sky. Lyor straightened decisively- even in the uncomfortable silence, he had said what he needed to say- not a confession, or even a wish. Just a quiet acknowledgement. And with that, he was more than happy to leave Emily to her own empty requiem.

He said his farewells; for Seth, he finally gave in to himself and pressed his hand against the top of the gravestone, relishing the bite of cold stone against his bare skin. Then, for the first time since seeing her, Lyor turned to face Emily full on. There was a knowing look flickering in her eyes as they lingered on where his hand was laid, but Lyor couldn’t bring himself to be interested in what she was thinking. Once again, she opened her mouth to speak; and once again, she said nothing.

“Goodbye, Emily,” Lyor said curtly. He strolled off without a backwards glance. They would be seeing each other again, he knew, at the trial. But it wouldn’t be the same- they would only see, not meet, each other. Emily was a stranger to him now, and to Lyor it didn’t mean a thing in the world.

 

* * *

 

“Remind me to never talk to you again.”

Julie’s laughter tinkled along with the distant clinking of cutlery from the kitchen, her mouth curving up into an evil grin over her wine glass. Lyor gave a pout that was only the tiniest bit exaggerated, which set her off even more; into a cascade of giggles.

“You agreed!” she sang, gesturing violently with her glass. “You said we would see each other more!”

“I thought you meant getting coffee once in a while. I made no agreements to double-dates.” Lyor turned desperately to Kendra, edging even closer than they were already sitting, hoping to inspire a united front in the face of this tyranny. “That’s a breach of terms, right? I can go back to her ignoring her?”

His girlfriend’s grin was dazzling and lipstick-bright and, to Lyor’s horror, identically devious to Julie’s. “Okay, firstly- the terms were far too vague in the first place for anything to be breached. And secondly-“ she leaned in close then, near enough that Lyor could get a dizzying whiff of her perfume. “There is no way I’m helping you get out of this one. This is too good to pass up.” She exchanged a conspiratorial smirk with his wife. “We have so much to compare notes on.”

“Why did I ever let either of you into my lives?” Lyor moaned despairingly. “You’re both terrible.”

They both cracked up again. They were double-trouble, those two- it was no wonder they’d become such fast friends. He just knew that they’d been scheming together, plotting to get him out eating at tapas restaurants and bonding with people and other godawful things like this.

“You look so handsome when you’re plotting murder,” Kendra whispered in his ear. Lyor couldn’t help but snort, and the laughter engulfed the whole table. They were all still grinning when tall-dark-and handsome swept over to their table, towering over them with a diamond sharp jaw and a smile that Lyor swore was twinkling.

“Here he is!” Julie exclaimed, leaping up to land a kiss on her boyfriend’s perfect lips. “Hey babe.”

“Hey,” he replied, and then again to the whole table- still twinkling. “Sorry I’m late- there were complications in surgery.”

They all shook hands. Even his grasp was out of this world. Warm, firm, and- Lyor was impressed to note- surprisingly light and casual for a man meeting his girlfriend’s husband for the first time. It seemed like Julie hadn’t been lying when she’d called Colin “ridiculously understanding.”

Kendra didn’t seem bothered either. “He really is a McDreamy,” she murmured to him once they were sat back down, and Lyor shot her a sly smirk. He knew she was a staunch appreciator of beautiful people, and Lyor could certainly relate in this case- he’d always known his wife had excellent taste, of course, but seeing further proof was gratifying to the extreme- and also made for a very pleasing view.

Under the table, Kendra’s hand crept over to land stealthily on his thigh. Maybe to reassure him that she was only playing around, or perhaps even to remind him to not let his eyes stray too far either. But more than likely, she was just making a promise for how this night was going to end. Lyor rose slightly to meet her touch, nudged their knees together; and the deal was complete. Julie waggled her eyebrows from across the table, and Lyor swallowed the urge to stick out his tongue with a swig of water. Like she could talk- those two were probably committing all manner of indecencies under the tablecloth as well. Lyor remembered all too well how Julie could get when she was feeling feisty.

“Really, Julie, you’re getting idle. I can’t believe it’s taken my wife a whole year to introduce me to her boyfriend,” Lyor said after their food arrived and the conversation hit a split second lull. He made deliberate eye contact with Colin as he said it, wondering how easily he could be pushed over the edge into discomfort.

Colin answered without missing a beat. “Well, it’s happening. And thank god it isn’t the slightest bit awkward, right?” He raised a cool eyebrow.

Alright, so he clearly wasn’t going to be ruffled. It was charming, and so familiar in all the right ways, and Lyor sent Julie a subtly approving look. She replied with a smile so genuine it was heart stopping.

Kendra laughed delightedly. “Maybe we should get married,” she said to Colin. “Just to even things out.”

It didn’t hit Lyor through the whole of dinner. He didn’t realise it in the hours they spent drifting around the park afterwards- where Julie goaded him and Kendra into doing a half-drunk dance which nearly resulted in them toppling into a fountain. It wasn’t until he was lying in a sweat-damp tangle with Kendra, hand tracing her spine in a haze of half sleep; until he looked at her and only wanted to see her, that he realised he could say he was happy without it feeling like a lie.

 

* * *

 

The room was buzzing with too much energy for the room to contain; the walls were almost bursting from the strain of their joy-drunk exuberance as everyone swayed dazedly around the room. The news was in: Tom Kirkman had just been re-elected for his second term as President of the United States.

They had all converged together to celebrate. The President was in some sort of private conference with Rosemary and Kendra, and Lyor had found himself caught on the edges of a lively discussion between Aaron and Cameron Zhu- Lyor was only half listening, but the young new National Security Advisor seemed to be fishing for Aaron’s approval as he rambled about how they should move forward into the second term. The administration had netted another puppy, apparently. But the puppy was damn good at his job, so Lyor- mostly- didn’t complain. He left the mentoring to Aaron, though.

Which left him to far more alluring pursuits, Lyor mused with a smile as he felt a hand slip into his. Kendra had finally escaped the President’s clutches, and he subtly nosed the crown of her head in greeting. Laughing at his coworkers was never as fun as it was when he had Kendra beside him.

His girlfriend sighed blissfully. “This is a good day.”

“It’s definitely passable,” Lyor agreed, and hid a smirk as Kendra nudged him mock-exasperatedly. He knew he couldn’t fool her- the moment the results had come in, he’d wrapped her up in his arms and spun her around in a giddy circle till they were both out of breath and still grinning like loons.

Lyor’s left hand was still busy with Kendra’s, but he took a sip from the glass of scotch in his right. The others in their little circle had opted for beer, but Lyor was only going to desecrate his liver if his tastebuds could at least enjoy themselves in the meantime, and the President had been all too happy to oblige. He licked his lips contentedly, caught himself nodding along enthusiastically with something that Aaron was saying, and then glared into his drink suspiciously.

“I don’t know what it is about alcohol that makes Aaron vaguely interesting, but it’s truly incredible,” he muttered into Kendra’s ear, and she stifled a giggle.

“Is it the same thing that makes you a nicer person?” she shot back sarcastically.

“Oh, no, that hasn’t been invented yet.”

Lyor untangled their fingers, only so he could wrap an arm around Kendra’s waist and pull her snugly against him. Blame the alcohol, or the victory, or anything else; but Lyor wanted to have Kendra as close as he could, and he didn’t care who saw. Kendra was apparently in firm agreement, judging by the way she pressed a shameless kiss to his lips.

As he pulled back for air, Lyor glanced up to where the President was standing. The man seemed to sense he was being watched, because he paused in whatever he was saying to the Press Secretary to return his gaze. Tom beamed at him, impossibly wide, and Lyor felt a smile curl at his own lips as he raised his glass; a silent toast. For the barest hint of a second, the President’s eyes slid over to linger over the empty air beside Lyor. His smile softened into something sad, and Lyor’s grip on his glass tightened. Kendra filled up the space beside him, but the room still felt far too big- there was someone missing, after all.

Seth was gone, and the finality of those words still pressed painfully. But, he realised, the thought couldn’t kill the contentment settled in his chest. The absence merely demanded to be acknowledged. It stood in the too-empty corner of the room, nodding to him- another silent toast. With everything else that had happened that day, Lyor could almost call that a win.

“Hey,” Kendra murmured, and she pressed a little closer. “You okay?” Lyor gazed down at her, and all of a sudden, the room didn’t feel small enough for the two of them.

“I love you,” he said in reply, and he felt nothing but warmth.

That answer was good enough for her, and she pulled him close, sealing the air between them with another scorching kiss as the room buzzed around them, humming the excited murmurings of a new era to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we go! Thank you for everyone who’s read this, and everyone who’s left kudos- a shout-out especially to MeredithBrody for her chapterly commentary lol. This is the longest thing I have ever written, and it’s taken a hell of a long time, but it was worth every minute and I’m extremely proud.
> 
> And now that the show is officially back, I can definitely promise more fics to come!

**Author's Note:**

> I’ll try to update this on a weekly basis, so stay tuned!


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